Zapped, or Another 97 Seconds
by Flatpickluvr
Summary: Alternate course of events for House in the 97 Seconds episode of the show. Lots of angst and drama!
1. Chapter 1

Zapped, or Another 97 Seconds

**This is my take on what could have happened to House in the "97 seconds" episode of the show. **

**Pay attention to the first paragraph, where it describes the ****first**** action House took (in my story, anyway) after the guy shoved the knife in the outlet. It becomes even more important later in the story.**

**Disclaimer – I do not own House or any of the characters from the show. The other characters, including Dr. Miller, Dr. Lewis, Andrew Carter, and Millie Smith, are my own creation. **

**The story is set during the show's "97 Seconds" episode in Season 4. A few details from the episode have been changed and I added an entirely new course of events that occurred after the self-electrocution. Additionally, this story doesn't exactly follow the Season 4 timeline. For example, a few things I mention in my story as having happened ****before**** the electrocution, actually happened ****after**** the "97 Seconds" episode in the series. **

**I already have most of the story written, but will hold off on uploading each chapter until I've gotten a sufficient number of reviews to decide whether or not I need to change anything.**

**Enjoy, and PLEASE REVIEW!**

House sat in his darkened office, alone, twirling a pocketknife and reflecting back on what transpired in front of him in the clinic's Exam Room One. His clinic patient presented for treatment of injuries after a car accident. House had no idea why he presented to the clinic instead of the ER, and was ready to turn around and walk out on this boring case, but was intrigued enough by the man's story to stay in the room with him. His clinic patient told him about the "wonderful" afterlife he experienced during the 97 seconds he was "technically dead" after his car accident. The clinic patient wanted to relive that experience. He came into the exam room wielding a pocketknife and, in front of House's eyes, lurched forward, stabbed the pocketknife into an electric outlet, and electrocuted himself. House called a code and hit the knife with his wooden cane to knock the knife out of the outlet. The code team was there within a minute. They ran in and managed to resuscitate the clinic patient. Meanwhile, House had another patient, Thomas Stark, who was not far from death and would soon be ready for the afterlife (if there indeed was one).

House would tell anyone who would listen that he didn't believe in a God, or any kind of an afterlife. He had already experienced near death twice in his lifetime. The first time, after the initial surgery to restore circulation to his infarcted thigh, was because his potassium rose too high and caused his heart to stop. While he was being resuscitated, he remembered seeing "visions" of other patients who had had similar experiences, but every time he recounted his "visions" to others he discounted them as being due to the release of endorphins and serotonin while the brain was shutting down. The second time was when he was shot, and he attributed that experience to oxygen deprivation and release of endorphins and serotonin by his brain while it was shutting down due to hypoxia. He did not think it was possible, in fact he thought it was impossible, for there to be any possibility of a true afterlife. He reasoned that there was no scientific proof of an afterlife, so why waste time trying to prove something that was unprovable?

His clinic patient instilled a spark in him though, a spark of doubt. Perhaps there was something to what the man claimed. The man was insistent that those 97 seconds were the best of his life, better than any high he had ever experienced. The man never claimed that he saw God or any other kind of omniscient being, but simply claimed that it was the best 97 seconds of his life. House was intrigued.

Meanwhile, Amber, Thirteen and Jody the former veterinarian were performing the thoracic tap on their patient Thomas Stark. While the pills that would have saved him were unknowingly being eaten by his assistance dog, Stark was literally gasping his life away, wondering what he would see on the other side when his Earthly life was over. He wanted to believe that there would be something better than this. Stark wasn't one hundred percent sure there was an afterlife, but he wanted to believe that there was a God who would spare him the pain and suffering he had experienced throughout most of his life here on Earth. House thought Stark was foolish for putting faith in an afterlife that didn't exist, Wilson thought House should have at least supported Stark in his belief even if House didn't share it, and the clinic patient was stone cold convinced it was real.

House thought that he could not leave the puzzle unsolved. He had to find out for sure.

For as long as his team had known him, House had always seemed a bit unstable. In fact, if one were to really think about it, as his team often did, unstable would be the understatement of the decade. To deliberately inject oneself with medication to induce a migraine, and to deliberately inject oneself with medication purported to prevent migraines, all in an attempt to discredit a hated colleague, went way beyond unstable.

Likewise, for a disabled man to taunt an able bodied and deranged stranger who had angrily barged into his office went _way beyond _unstable.

And here he was again, contemplating an action that would once again, undoubtedly, label him crazy or suicidal. House thought perhaps they were right. As he sat there contemplating the knife and the electric outlet, he thought, was he really just that curious about the existence of an afterlife, or was there some other motive behind his obsession to do something this _insane_? Assuming that he could be resuscitated, which was a big IF considering his past medical history, what would the consequences be? Whether or not there was a permanent afterlife, there most certainly would be a temporary afterlife in some sort of psychiatric institution with a diagnosis of depression and attempted suicide IF anyone was able to resuscitate him in the first place.

House made several assumptions. The first was that sticking the knife in the outlet would cause electrocution. The second was that when he sent the text message before sticking the knife in the outlet, someone would actually get it and respond in time to save him. The third was that he could be saved. The last was that, should he be saved, he would suffer no consequences from electrocuting himself.

What he failed to remember was his own advice, "when you assume, you make an ass out of you and me".

House flicked the knife open and closed, open and closed, open and closed. He was eyeing the electric outlet the entire time.

3:00 PM

One……Two………..Three…………Three and a half…………………ZZAAPPP

The first assumption proved to be true. He was seated in his Eames chair. His right hand was on the knife, and his left hand was idly gripping the IPod in his pocket. What happened next was textbook Physics 101. When he stabbed the knife into the outlet, the current shot through his right arm, through his chest, down his left arm, through the IPod, and down through his left leg to the ground.

The second assumption was just plain crazy, even for House. He texted the same message to everyone in his phone's contact list (which amounted to about fifteen people). Wilson, Cameron, Chase, Cuddy and Foreman were so used to his crazy texts that they deleted it without giving it a second thought. Amber, Thirteen and Jody the former veterinarian got the text, but Jody and Thirteen were tied up trying to save Stark and couldn't get to their phones right away. Kutner's phone was dead and Taub was apparently occupied with something else and let House's text go to his mailbox without reading it. Evidently Cole and the other soon to be ex-candidates never got the message in the first place. House's message just said "My office, stat." Amber got the text message when Thirteen and Jody did. Jody had her hands on the thoracic needle inside Stark, and couldn't pick up her phone at all. Thirteen was busy helping Jody. Amber's hands were free. Amber saw the message but thought for just a minute too long that it might be one of House's tricks, and figured House could wait. Amber waited to see if Thirteen would respond. Once Thirteen's hands were free, she saw that nobody else in the room had yet responded to House's message. Thirteen grabbed her phone with a sigh of exasperation and called House back. All three had a vested interest in satisfying their boss, but it was only self-preservation. House knew they wanted their jobs. He doubted that they'd have any other reason to care what happened to him. The question, really, was did they want to impress him badly enough to make sure he stayed around? They could work for anyone. If Foreman had House's job, they'd be just as anxious to impress Foreman as they were to impress House. He'd pissed Amber off enough already, calling her a cut throat bitch. Thirteen didn't even want anyone to call her by her real name, preferring instead to be known by a number so she wouldn't develop any kind of attachment, in case she wasn't going to stick around. Jody pretty much knew she was the next one on the train out of there. Nobody who actually got and read the text message actually LIKED him. So it was very unlike House to just guess that one of them would get his message, and care enough about him to respond in time.

For all his brilliance, House hadn't counted on the possibility that his fellows would think he was "crying Wolf" or that they would be tied up in a medical procedure, unable to respond with the required haste.

House didn't realize how screwed he really was.

The third assumption was a tenuous one. His _documented_ medical history filled several boxes in the medical records department at PPTH. His undocumented medical history included many childhood injuries that he had tried so hard to bury. Beginning with the heart attack he had after the initial surgery to restore circulation to his leg, the gunshot wounds that caused him to bleed out, the whole "migraine prevention testing" episode, the transfusion reaction he had after he volunteered to be transfused with possibly tainted blood, the long-term chronic use of a narcotic that could possibly have a side effect of liver damage, several failed detox programs, and chronic long-term alcohol consumption, his body had already suffered too many insults. The heart damage started with his first heart attack after the initial leg surgery. Dead or damaged liver tissue doesn't metabolize medications (that would be needed to save him) as well as healthy liver tissue. Dead heart muscle stays dead.

The last assumption, that there would be no consequences for him if they were able to save him, really wouldn't matter if the first few assumptions ended badly.

The first assumption, that sticking the knife in the outlet would result in electrocution, was true.

The second assumption, that someone would get his text message and respond in time to save him, was true, _sort of_. Thirteen was the first one to respond to his text message. She did call him back. House was unconscious on the floor and unable to respond to her call. When House didn't call her back, Thirteen figured whatever he wanted must not be that important, so she returned to the task at hand of helping Jody with Stark. Amber, who was still in Stark's room but not otherwise occupied, stomped her feet with anger since she obviously drew the short straw, and would have to go to House's office and subject herself to whatever oddball or vicious verbiage he was going to dish out. She walked to his office, but wasn't in any hurry to get there.

Amber dragged her feet down the hallway and into his office, expecting to be cut down or criticized for something or maybe even fired.

3:30 PM

Amber found him on the floor with his hand clenched around the knife that was still in the electric outlet. The smell of burned flesh was pervasive. He wasn't breathing. She froze in her steps at the sight before her. She didn't react for a few seconds. She couldn't touch him because the electric circuit was still live; his hand was still on the knife that was in the outlet. She'd have been electrocuted as well. She found his wooden cane and took a swing worthy of Mark McGwire to knock the knife out of the outlet. She hit the knife and his hand, successfully knocking the knife across the room. The circuit was broken and she could now safely work on him. What she SHOULD have done, as anyone trained in first aid is taught, was to call for help before starting CPR. She SHOULD have called a code first. Shoulda, coulda, woulda. Well, cut throat bitch wanted to look like a hero by saving her boss. The mistake she made by not calling the code team first wasn't intentional, but it was horrendous. She started CPR.

3:35 PM

Amber looked at the clock and realized she'd forgotten to call a code. She corrected her mistake.

House would pay dearly for his own crazy behavior, and even more dearly for the time lapse before the code team arrived.


	2. The Code

Zapped, or Another 97 Seconds

**A/N – I don't own House or the show's other characters but Dr. Miller, Andrew Carter, and Millie Smith are my own creation. I am a medical professional with ICU experience but consider this a disclaimer that this story isn't meant to be 100% medically accurate. It's close; however, it is also just plain fiction and meant for enjoyment, not a medical education. Please review!!**

Chapter 2

The code team rushed in to House's office. The other members of House's team, and Cuddy and Wilson as well, heard the code announced overhead.

"Code Blue, fourth floor medical office building!"

"Code Blue, fourth floor medical office building!"

Although they weren't sure, his team suspected it was House's office. The mad rush of the rest of House's team followed the code team, running up the stairs from various locations in the hospital. Cuddy had been interviewing a new assistant. While she heard the code announced, she didn't hear the exact location either, so she didn't respond until she saw Wilson running madly out of the clinic toward the stairs. "Oh God", she thought, "House. Not again."

The code team consisted of Dr. Miller (the ICU intensivist), Brenda Previn (ACLS certified ICU registered nurse), Andrew Carter (ACLS certified emergency room registered nurse), and Millie Smith (respiratory therapist). Dr. Miller knew House slightly, from their association as fellow physicians at the same hospital. Brenda, of course, knew House well from his constant snarky comments to her, his constant belittling of all ICU nurses, and his refusal to allow the ICU nurses to do their jobs with his patients. House always had his fellows perform procedures, such as blood drawing, catheter insertion, IV starting, and other things, that nurses ordinarily do. He always said he didn't trust the nurses. This put him on Brenda's shit list from Day 1. She loved having his patients in the ICU because his patients were always interesting and challenging, but she hated having to deal personally with him. Andrew had only heard of House through the grapevine, and Millie had neither met nor heard of House.

When the code team got the page on their pagers, and heard the overhead code page, they heard (and saw on their pagers) what the operator announced, "Code Blue, fourth floor medical office building". They rushed to the fourth floor of the medical office building within one minute of getting the page, but didn't know which office the emergency was in until they found Amber in House's office administering CPR to an obviously, and hopefully temporarily, dead Dr. Gregory House.

Grabbing the automatic external defibrillator from the crash cart, Brenda pushed Amber out of the way and attached the two adhesive leads to House's chest. "Shock Advised!" cried out the loud electronic voice from the defibrillator. Brenda administered the first shock, and the only response, a few seconds later, was from the defibrillator… "Shock Advised!" it cried again. After the lack of response to the second shock, Brenda and Millie resumed CPR. Amber, slowly realizing the potential impact of not calling the code sooner, and even worse, not responding faster to House's STAT page, stood in stunned silence as the code team expected her to be of some help. Dr. Miller ordered Amber to get some epinephrine from the crash cart while Andrew was starting an IV. Suddenly Amber could do nothing but stand there like an idiot.

The rest of House's team, and Cuddy and Wilson, were causing another chaotic scene outside of House's office as the small crowd pushed closer to House's office door, getting in the way of everyone responding to the code. The other ICU nurses who responded with a stretcher couldn't get past the crowd to get the stretcher into House's office.

Dr. Miller calmly ordered "Everyone who is NOT on the code team get out of this room and stay out of the way!" Amber just moved over to the corner and stood there like stone. The chaotic mess consisting of the rest of House's team, and Cuddy and Wilson, stayed where they were outside of House's office, but moved just enough to make room for the nurses to move the stretcher to where it was needed. Brenda and Millie stopped CPR just long enough for Brenda to apply the bigger manual defibrillator so they could view House's heart's rhythm. "Fine V-Fib!" Brenda cried out.

Dr. Miller intubated House. After verifying that the breathing tube was in the correct position, Millie took over ventilation with an Ambu bag. Brenda cried "CLEAR!" and defibrillated House again.

As is typical during a code, every member of the code team had their specific job to do. These tasks were performed simultaneously. Many tasks were being performed at the same time. Orders and other necessary communication were being barked around the room, making the code look very chaotic to several untrained onlookers (patients from other physicians' offices). In fact, it was a finely tuned, well rehearsed, and very well organized emergency response.

The code would continue in their present location, on the floor in House's office, until either House was stable enough to move, when Dr. Miller deemed moving him necessary, or when Dr. House was declared dead.

Having failed to respond to being defibrillated numerous times during the code, House's team watched in stunned silence as House's body arced up every time he was defibrillated, only to see continued fine V-Fib or perhaps even asystole (flatline) on the heart monitor. Every time he failed to respond to being defibrillated, the code team resumed CPR, and it was obvious to everyone at the scene that at least several of House's ribs had been broken during CPR. The secondary injuries, including the severe burns, were also rapidly becoming obvious.

House's team watched on in horror as they knew Dr. Miller had to be getting ready to wrap things up at the scene. The unspoken question was, would they wrap it up with House on a stretcher on his way to the ICU, or with House in a body bag on his way to the morgue?

Dr Miller was considering whether or not they should stop this and call time of death when he thought of the external pacemaker. Actually, he had been considering it all along, but given the fact that quite some time had gone by before House was even found, and the additional time before the code team was even called, he wondered whether there would be enough of House's brain left to salvage even if they could get his circulation restored somehow. Brenda, Andrew and Millie read his mind, and the decision was quickly made to try an external pacemaker as a last resort. The external pacemaker was applied, and once they could feel a pulse in House's carotid artery from the pacemaker, the decision was made to move him to the stretcher and run him down to ICU.

The move to the ICU was like a freight train thundering along at top speed with Dr. Miller as the engineer, helping to push the stretcher and calling out to all the onlookers to "move out of the way!". Cuddy, Wilson, and most of House's minions were shocked stragglers at the end of this train that was running full steam ahead through the hallway and down the elevator. Chase had been holding the elevator so there would be no wait when they were ready to move House.

Amber was sitting on the floor in House's office in the midst of all the mess left over from the code, ashen and in continued stunned silence. She was looking at the big burned spot on the wall around the outlet. In the proverbial "writing on the wall", she could see nothing about House. All it said to her was that her career here at PPTH was over.


	3. What a Mess

Chapter 3

Earlier that morning, the ICU had been very quiet. Brenda and the rest of the ICU evening shift nursing staff started their shift at 3 pm. The first thing Brenda did was check the evening shift assignments, and she found herself assigned to Cubicles 1 and 2 as well as the code team. There weren't too many patients in the ICU and those that were there were stable and having a pretty good day. A few visitors were scattered here and there in the ICU cubicles, and the ICU waiting room was mercifully quiet for once. Nurses were busy in the patient rooms with routine duties, and a few physicians and another respiratory therapist were enjoying a rare bit of quiet at one of the nurse's stations in the ICU. Cubicle 1 had been vacated by another patient earlier that day, and was ready for its next occupant.

4:15 PM

Dr. Miller, the code team, and the rest of the train barged through the doors of the ICU towards the recently vacated Cubicle 1. There were so many people surrounding the stretcher and House himself was barely visible behind all the people and surrounded by all the medical equipment being used to keep his circulation going. Millie was riding on the stretcher like a jockey on a runaway thoroughbred, bouncing along as they ran and squeezing air from the Ambu bag into House's endotracheal tube to provide oxygen. Brenda was running in front of the stretcher, pulling it and guiding them expertly to the ICU while keeping the external pacemaker intact and functioning. House was still not breathing and had no heartbeat other than the artificial heartbeat supplied by the external pacemaker.

The rest of the train stood around aimlessly outside of Cubicle 1, trying to push their way into the cubicle. Apparently they needed to be told there wasn't enough room _inside_ the cubicle for all of them, the code team, the ICU staff AND House. Again Dr. Miller had to sternly ask all of them "Those of you who are NOT on the code team and are not ICU staff members, please wait in the waiting room OUTSIDE the ICU!" He then more calmly added, "We will come out and update you right away as soon as we have any news."

As difficult as it was to leave House in someone else's (albeit very capable) hands, Wilson led the rest of the train out of the ICU and into the waiting room. The formerly nearly empty waiting room suddenly was filled to capacity with shell-shocked people just staring into space, wandering around the waiting area seemingly aimlessly.

Amber and her whereabouts were the last things anyone was concerned about.

While Brenda and her colleagues transferred him carefully from the stretcher to the bed, taking care not to dislodge his endotracheal tube or any of the lines currently attached to him, Millie continued providing artificial respiration while the other respiratory therapist in the unit was busy setting up a bedside ventilator for House. Dr. Miller was at the ICU nurse's station calling a stat cardiology consult and planning the immediate course of action for House's care. House could not stay on the external cardiac pacemaker for much longer. It was just a stopgap measure to buy them time to try to get his own heart kick-started again. The code team had tried numerous doses of Atropine, epinephrine and other emergency IV medications while they were working on him in his office, in an attempt to get his heart re-started, all to no effect. They continued administering Atropine and epinephrine on the way to the ICU and after he was transferred into bed in ICU Cubicle 1.

Meanwhile, the rest of the train in the ICU waiting room were slowly beginning to lose their shell-shocked expressions and regain some composure. Wilson found it difficult to wait for an update, as Dr. Miller advised, without having something else to do. As the other people slowly started pacing around the waiting room and calling the ICU every few minutes on their cell phones, Wilson found his calling. He took matters into his own hands and asked everyone to shut up, hang up their phones, sit down and funnel all the phone calls through him. That way the ICU wouldn't be bombarded with the phone ringing, taking House's nurses away from where they needed to be in order to answer unnecessary phone calls.

Cuddy, Wilson, and most of the rest of House's team were in the waiting room. Nobody seemed to notice Amber's continued absence.

House's cardiac monitor showed the "beep, beep, beep" rhythm of an artificial external pacemaker set to stimulate his heart to beat at 60 beats per minute. Even the slightest move could dislodge the external pacemaker leads that were attached to his chest with adhesive, so he could not be moved or touched without utmost care. As Dr. Miller was assessing the rest of House's body to evaluate the extent of House's burns as well as any other possible new injuries, Brenda and several of her co-workers were removing the remnants of his clothing that hadn't already been cut off by the code team in House's office.

Brenda took a deep breath when she saw the scar on House's right thigh. She was there, all those years ago, during the infarction. She was so used to having to deal with House every day that she'd become inured to his heavy Vicodin use and his pronounced limp. Seeing the scar brought back the memories of how much he suffered during the infarction and its immediate aftermath. Surely that was more than enough suffering for one lifetime.

They found the fried IPod in the left hip pocket of his jeans. The burns down his right arm, across his chest, down his left arm and down his left leg were very serious but not life threatening. Assuming he survived the cardiac arrest, his burn rehabilitation would be lengthy and full of its own potential complications.

4:35 PM

Dr. Lewis, the on call cardiologist, arrived for the stat consult in Cubicle 1. "Oh my God, what a mess" he muttered under his breath. Lewis, like most of the physicians on staff at PPTH, had heard of House, but didn't know him well. Like every other healthcare provider on staff at PPTH, having to care for a fellow physician and co-worker who was so critically ill caused him to take a quick step back and redouble his efforts to keep his emotions under control.

As Lewis did a quick physical exam and reviewed the records from House's code, the cardiac monitor attached to House did a few flip-flops. Brenda had been hanging another IV bag at House's bedside and her eyes shot over to the cardiac monitor. Brenda's hand shot out to palpate House's carotid pulse. Dr. Miller came running into the cubicle. The audible "beat, beat, beat" from the cardiac monitor slowly picked up speed. 60, 62, 64. House's heart added a few feeble, irregular beats of its own to the regular rhythm provided by the external pacemaker. House's own cardiac rhythm was far from normal. His own heart was only beating spontaneously a few times a minute, but it was beating!

4:55 PM

Dr. Miller stepped outside of the ICU and into the ICU waiting room to update the small horde of people waiting frantically for news. Wilson again had to ask them all to shut up and sit down so that Dr. Miller could relay all the news to Wilson. Wilson could then update the rest of the horde, and Miller could get back as quickly as possible to House's cubicle.

"Wilson, his heart just started beating a few times a minute on its own. The native heart rhythm is far from normal and we're not sure its going to last, but for what it's worth, his heart is beating on its own just a little. He's still on the external pacemaker and will be for as long as it's reasonable to keep him on it. You know that an external pacemaker is not a permanent solution. We have to take this minute by minute. Unfortunately I can't even tell you if he's going to make it to the end of the day today. All I can tell you is that his heart is beating just a little bit on its own right now. He's maxed out on the Atropine and epinephrine and we still have some time with the external pacemaker to support him while his own heart tries to take over what it should be doing. I'll keep you updated." With that, Dr. Miller's pager went off with a stat page and he sprinted back into the ICU.

House's heart was feebly beating on its own at about 25 beats per minute and the external pacemaker was providing the additional electrical stimulation to beat an additional 60 times a minute. So House's pulse on the monitor was about 85 beats per minute. House's own feeble heart beat of about 25 beats per minute was not nearly fast enough or strong enough to consider weaning him off of the external pacemaker. House's own feeble, slow heart rhythm was called sinus bradycardia. Brenda paged Dr. Miller stat because House's blood pressure should have shown some signs of improving once his heart started beating a little bit on its own, but it wasn't improving. He was still completely comatose and not breathing at all on his own. With all the medications and IV fluids House had received during and after the code, Miller was expecting to at least see some improvement in his blood pressure when his heart started feebly beating on its own. Alarmed that his blood pressure was still in the basement, Miller ordered an additional IV Dopamine drip meant specifically to raise House's blood pressure.

While Brenda was starting the Dopamine drip, Miller inserted an arterial line into House's burned left wrist. He had no better choice as to where the arterial line could be inserted. Both of House's arms were badly burned. They could have used the femoral artery in his left leg, but his left leg was just as badly burned as his arms. The only extremity not burned in the electrocution was his right leg, and the previous infarction and surgery in his right thigh had left his circulation too impaired to risk putting an arterial line there. Left wrist it was then.

5:15 PM

Blood pressure 80/50 on a very high dose of Dopamine. His heart was beating spontaneously at about 50 beats per minute, but some of that increase could be attributed to the Dopamine. He was still much too unstable to consider weaning from the external cardiac pacemaker. House had already received numerous liters of IV fluid in an attempt to stabilize his blood pressure, and yet he was barely making any urine and his blood pressure would not rise much above its current level.

Miller was perplexed. Why, given the pharmacy full of medications House had already received and was still being given, were his pulse and blood pressure there but just barely? They either shouldn't be there at all and they would have called time of death, or they should have improved dramatically by now. Every time Brenda increased his dopamine drip, they should have seen a notable increase in his spontaneous heart rate as well as blood pressure. His heart rate was taking much too long to respond to the increased medication and his blood pressure was taking even longer. Miller was beginning to think the only reason he had any kind of blood pressure at all, no matter how low, was because of the external pacemaker. For some reason the dopamine was mostly ineffective. Miller tried norepinephrine, which resulted in a slightly higher heart rate and blood pressure, although not as much as expected.

Although he showed some minor improvement, the end of the road was still visible. Miller wasn't sure he'd have enough time to go through all the boxes full of House's past medical records before they reached the end of the road, but he dove in headfirst and was thankful once again for his Evelyn Woods speed-reading course fifteen years ago in college!


	4. Cuddy Takes Charge

Chapter 4

**A/N – here's our Huddy fix! Remember this is set during Season 4 before we knew about their past one night stand. And fortunately, way before Mucus Lucas showed up. I've decided I'm going to form a new social organization – the Legion of Lucas Haters. (Just kidding)**

**Don't own any of the show's characters but wish I did.**

In the ICU waiting room, Cuddy called Blythe and John, House's parents. She should've checked with Wilson first to see if he had called them yet, but her mind and heart were entirely with House in that cubicle right now. She wasn't thinking about anyone or anything else except House. She longed to be the one in his cubicle barking out orders, seeing to his needs, but in all honesty, she had to admit that he was much more than a patient to her. She wasn't objective enough to be his primary physician now. She was much more to him than just his physician or his boss. Before she picked up her phone to call his parents, she thought about what she was going to say. She realized that she'd really known all along that he was much more to her than just a pain-in-the-butt employee. He was much more to her than just a fellow physician. He was very much more to her than just a patient. She had never had the nerve to TELL him that, per se. She had never DONE more than just playfully flirt with him. She'd shown him some flesh, made plenty of suggestive comments, and even kissed him during her time of need, but she'd never said or done anything more than that to show him how much she really loved him.

And it was a deep, passionate love.

She thought to herself, _How the hell is he supposed to know how much I love him when I've never told him that? How can I expect him to love me in return when the only thing I've ever done to express any interest in him at all was just some playful flirting, and one kiss when *I* needed *him*?_ _In fact, HE kissed ME. I didn't even initiate that. Now he needs me to be there for him, but I can't stand going in that room and knowing that I have no control over anything that happens in there. Get it together, girl! _

She made the call. "Mr. House? Um, it's Lisa Cuddy – Greg's boss here in Princeton. I have some news that you both need to hear. Is Mrs. House able to come to the phone?" Upon hearing that, Wilson ran over to Cuddy, reached out for her to hand him the phone, and mouthed 'I already called them – no answer – left a message – let me talk to them.'

Cuddy thought _I've had these conversations with families hundreds of times. Let me alone, Wilson. Go try to mother everyone else._

Wilson had no idea how John House would react to the news, and worse yet, he thought that Cuddy didn't know the history involving House and John. Having this type of conversation with any patient's family is difficult. Going into this conversation blindly with John House on the receiving end could be utterly disastrous. Cuddy was going to need help with this one.

"Mr. House, Greg had a heart attack." _The understatement of the millennium._

"He suffered an electrical injury, and his heart stopped for quite some time." _No shit, Sherlock. He electrocuted himself. But I can't tell him that over the phone._

"No, he isn't in pain because he isn't awake." _Duh. Oh wait, he didn't realize Greg isn't awake yet – be nice, Lisa_; _John's concerned, and he should be… that's a good thing, especially given their history._

"Yes, I think you and Blythe should come in." _Of course you should come in – your son's dying, you idiot_

"His heart is beating now, but he's requiring constant life support to keep it beating. He's on medications and a pacemaker to support his own heart's efforts and to help keep his blood pressure up" _Yeah, keep it above ZERO, you moron – oops – get it together, Lisa – be nice to the bastard_

"and he's on a respirator to breathe for him. He isn't breathing on his own yet." _No response from John – did he faint, or does he just not care? I mean God, I know about the abuse but come on…_

"John, are you still there?"

"Yes, we are." Blythe answered through her sobs in the background. "We are stunned and John doesn't know what to say. We'll be on the next plane to Princeton. He's at PPTH, right? We'll get a car at the airport. You stay right there. Do you need us to bring you anything or do anything?" _Yes, but not for me - PRAY_

"No? Ok, then, we'll see you at the hospital when we get there."

Cuddy flipped her phone off. Wilson brought Cuddy a coffee, set it down on the table and gave her a great big bear hug.

5:50 PM

Lewis came out to talk with Wilson. The rest of the crowd had started to thin out just a bit, and those that stayed behind in the waiting room were straining to hear their conversation. Wilson shot them a look that said _Stay where you are – I'll tell you all in a little bit – let this guy do his job!_

"I'm Dr. Lewis. Dr. Miller paged me. I'm the on call cardiologist. At this point, I'm sure you know the prognosis is not good" - _doctorspeak for Horrible_ Wilson thought -

"but there is good news at least for now. His own heart rate is picking up slowly. We're going to start weaning him from the external pacemaker in a few minutes. At this point, I can't tell you if his own heart rate increase is due to all the medications or if it's due to any improvement in his condition. Let me tell you our biggest concern right now. Our biggest concern is that, given the massive amount of epinephrine, atropine and dopamine he's already received, his heart rate should have responded much faster than it has. He should have a heart rate of at least 80 without the support of a pacemaker. He should never have needed a pacemaker. We can't figure out why his body isn't responding as fast as it should to all of the medications he has received and continues to receive. It's like the car's gas tank is full but we are pushing the pedal to the metal right now and only able to move about 5 miles an hour. The meds are like the fuel. We need to figure out what's keeping the fuel from reaching the fuel pump."

Wilson thought _Oh, this guy's good! House'd love this. "Hey, I do the metaphors!"_

Wilson said, "Ok, got it. I'll let everybody know."

Lewis made a beeline back to the ICU.

Wilson sank down into the nearest chair with a sigh. _Ok, pull it together guy. I'm the one who gets thanked when I tell strangers they're seriously ill. Just never thought I'd have to have the same kind of discussion about House. Well, get your ass out of the chair. The roadies and groupies are waiting for you._

Unbeknownst to anyone in the waiting room, Amber cleaned out her locker and walked out of PPTH.


	5. Evening, Day 1

Chapter 5

**A/N –This is a short chapter. Get ready for some long ones, chock full of Huddy and angst, coming soon, probably starting with Chapter 7!**

In his most clinical, calmly detached, and supportive voice, Wilson gathered House's people around him in the waiting room.

"Here it is in a nutshell. His heart is beating over and above the pacemaker, but it's not beating very effectively. They aren't sure how much of the improvement is due solely to the medications he's receiving or if any of that might be due to some cardiac recovery. They are going to try to wean him, slowly, off of the pacemaker. For now he's still swimming in dopamine, atropine and epinephrine, but they're not having as much of an effect as they should. Lewis compared the meds to gasoline in a car's fuel tank – he said the tank's full, but the fuel isn't reaching the fuel pump." At that, a few smiles appeared on otherwise somber, worried, and exhausted faces. House would love that one.

"Why doesn't everyone go home. I have an idea, and I need to stay here tonight to meet his parents when they get here. I know you probably won't get any sleep, but you do have lives to attend to, and at least for now, there's nothing you can do to help him. I'll call Wilson if anything changes and when House's parents get here. Wilson will update all of you. Good night, everyone." Cuddy said in her most authoritative, administrator voice, and then strode with a new purpose out of the waiting room and up to the fourth floor.

Slowly the waiting room began to empty out. Kutner just couldn't bring himself to leave. Kutner hadn't really said too much. Like everyone else, the enormity of the situation was taking its time to sink in. House wasn't _dead_, but he wasn't really _alive_ either. It was more like his body was bait on the end of a heavily weighted fish hook. The sharks had already had a big bite and were slavering for more. Kutner couldn't stand the thought of going home to an empty apartment. He was lonely anyway, probably a lot like House, he surmised. He knew what it was like to go home, alone, and have nobody in your house to share the joys and problems of the day with. He'd go home, turn the TV on, and stew by himself in front of the TV. On any other given day, Kutner knew House would do pretty much the same thing, with a lot of bourbon, piano, and Vicodin thrown in for added measure.

Kutner figured he'd much rather stew in front of the TV here in the waiting room with company.

Cuddy had a new purpose now. She made a list of what she would need as she marched up to House's office.

"Whiteboard." _Wait till they see how I redecorate the waiting room,_ she thought.

"Markers". _How many different colors will I need? Oh hell, just grab 'em all._

"Eraser." _The sooner we can start erasing symptoms, the better._

"Bally and yo-yo." _Wait till the other patients' visitors see us throwing these around._

"Plastic heart model." _Although I don't think the problem's only in his heart. I better grab all his fake organs. _

"His cane." Her heart broke at that. It really wasn't diagnostically significant at all, but she needed to be able to hold some part of him, to keep some part of him with her at all times. This would have to do.

She strode into his office and gathered up the things she knew she'd need for now. There would be other things they'd need later, and she filed those away mentally for another time. These should suffice for now.

The last item she found was the cane. It was burned at the spot where it had come into contact with the knife, and there was a little blood – House's blood – where it had also hit his hand. Otherwise it was solid, undamaged; like she wanted Gregory House to be.


	6. Have Toys, Will Travel

Chapter 6

**Disclaimer –this chapter contains the Family Guy reference. It has no significance to this story at all. I just like FG. It's my second favorite show, behind House. I love the two FG episodes that Hugh voiced, and they ran scenes from a FG episode in "Broken".**

6:15 PM

Cuddy was on her way back down from House's office, dragging the whiteboard, his cane, and a box with the other goodies. Fellow employees, seeing her purposeful stride but being unaware of the situation with House, assumed that she was on her way to the classroom to set up for a conference or lecture the next day. Why she was carrying House's cane was anybody's guess. They looked on after her with respect and thought nothing more of it.

7:30 PM

Dr. Miller came out to talk with Wilson, but found only Kutner and Cuddy in the waiting room. Or maybe it wasn't the waiting room anymore… Kutner was staring at a Family Guy rerun on TV, but what the hell was Cuddy doing up on a ladder ripping down all the pictures in the waiting room? Miller smiled to himself as he realized what they were all going to be in for. _House better improve soon, 'cause I think these folks are going to turn this place upside down if he doesn't_ thought Miller.

First on her action plan – get all the necessary supplies – CHECK, she'd just done that.

Second – all this artwork hanging in the waiting room has GOT to go. The last thing she wanted House's minions doing was focusing on anything other than that whiteboard. CHECK – she would take down all the posters and pictures.

Third – this elevator music shit has to go too. House's IPod was fried, but Cuddy had some good music on hers. When it got to the point that she'd need time by herself to think, she'd have her trusty IPod, just like House. CHECK – one call to the A/V people and that was mercifully gone, too.

Fourth – this furniture just is not conducive to our purpose, she thought. One call to housekeeping and maintenance, and all of those uncomfortable straight backed chairs and loveseats that didn't recline were gone. They were replaced with House's Eames chair, his desk chair that was comfortable in all the right spots, and assorted comfortable full sized futons, overstuffed recliners and a few sofa sleepers. She needed his team comfortable and well rested for their task at hand. While they were at it, she'd had housekeeping stock the waiting room full of pillows, sheets, blankets, coffee and snacks. If she ever walked in and found any of the other patients' visitors using their stuff, she had no problem ordering them to leave. She'd practiced that speech on House, King of the Moochers, a zillion times before.

Miller walked through the "waiting room" turned mobile diagnostics office. Have Toys, Will Travel he thought. Leave it to Cuddy, he thought, as he found her on a ladder removing the last of the framed artwork from the wall.

"Hey Lisa," Miller said softly, not wanting to startle her on the ladder. She smiled down at him as if to say, _Hope you don't mind what I did with the place_, and climbed down.

"When are his parents coming?" Cuddy didn't know, but said that she'd bring them in after they arrived and after she'd had a chance to fill them in.

"Ok, before they get here, why don't you come on in and see him again. I see Wilson's gone home. That's good; he's going to need rest. I need to update you. After that, will you call Wilson or do you want me to?" She left that question unanswered. She needed to see House.

"Let's walk and talk. Lewis didn't have anything new to add. We've got the external pacemaker down to 30. His heart's beating on its own about 50 times a minute, which hasn't improved and hasn't worsened either. The rhythm looks good, and I thought it might be time to start weaning down the dopamine. That was a disaster. We stopped giving him all the atropine and epinephrine, and he tolerated that ok, but when we started weaning down the dopamine, he crashed again." _How can he crash any more than he already has? _Cuddy wondered.

"His spontaneous heart rate dropped and so did his blood pressure, which wasn't too high to begin with. Guess we screwed up, trying to wean him off of the dopamine and the pacemaker at the same time. Anyway, he's back maxed out on the dopamine again. We even had to add norepinephrine. We're going to just focus on weaning him off the external pacemaker for now, and see how he does."

Cuddy looked at Miller with something akin to hope in her eyes. Just a glimmer. Miller said "I know what you're thinking. Right now, we're all taking it minute by minute. The only minor improvement is that we're able to wean down the pacemaker." Cuddy had such hope, such a renewed faith that the idea she was tossing around would work.

With that, they had arrived at House's cubicle. They switched on an additional overhead light when they walked in, and it was at that moment that the idea Cuddy had brewing in her head got brighter and brighter. Cuddy knew exactly how they could help House try to recover. It was time to put the plan into action.


	7. My Right Foot

Chapter 7 

**A/N – get ready for what I hope will be a wild rollercoaster ride! New character here. House's night shift nurse is named Anne. I named her after Anne Dudek, the actress who played Amber. I maligned Amber in this story. I am sure that the actress herself is at least a little nicer and more selfless than her character was. I wanted to do something nice to make up for maligning Amber **

House's parents couldn't get a flight out until the next day.

11:00 PM

Brenda was in House's cubicle cleaning up a few little things and making things ready for the night shift. Brenda was waiting for the night shift nurse to come in so she could give her report on her patient.

As she was recording House's last set of vital signs before the night shift took over, she looked over and thought she must be imagining things. Were his right toes twitching? No. But then she looked again and sure enough, the toes on his right foot were twitching a little bit. His eyes were not open. He was not breathing on his own, and he would not respond when she asked him to grip her hands or move his arms or hands. But the toes on his right foot were twitching… no, wait, they were moving purposefully. House was moving his toes deliberately.

Brenda went to his side.

"House, open your eyes if you hear me." _No response._

"House." _No response. Eyes still closed._

Brenda moved away from the bed, but House kept moving his toes.

When Anne, the night shift nurse, arrived in the ICU for report, Brenda relayed all of the pertinent information to her. Brenda noticed that House's right toes were moving incessantly. Brenda's heart leapt. She was talking to Anne, but staring at House's moving toes. It was almost like he was beckoning someone to come to him, but with no other response from him, it was difficult to determine if this was purposeful movement or if this was just some kind of reflex.

12 Midnight

_A building must have fallen on me. Oops, a "structure". Can't breathe. Feels like a ton of bricks on me. Three GOOD limbs, and the only things I can move without agony are the toes on my BAD leg. Earthquake? Bomb? Plane crash into the building? Where am I? What fell on me? _

_Oh God, what… Eyes? Are they working? _

House's eyelids fluttered open for a second before he clamped them tightly shut again.

He could see, but he had no idea where he was.

His nurse, Anne, was in the restroom.

Nobody saw him open his eyes.

_Oh God, the light's too bright and everything HURTS SO MUCH…Can't hear anything… Am I dead? Shit…_

2 AM Day 2

House hadn't opened his eyes again since midnight.

A slightly faster "Beep, beep, beep, beep" from House's monitor could be heard.

Anne did another neuro check.

"Dr. House?" _No response._

With no response to verbal stimuli, the next test was to apply painful stimuli. There were several ways to do this. One was to rub the sternum. This was out of the question in the face of his obvious rib fractures and cardiac problems. The other was to apply pressure to the nail beds. Normally she'd do the nail bed pressure test with one of House's fingers, but his hands were burned too badly.

She knew from his history that he had chronic pain in his right leg, and didn't want to cause him pain unnecessarily. It was necessary to try to get him to respond, and his left leg and foot were also burned. She had no choice but to use a toe on his right foot. As she firmly pinched his right big toe, House's eyes shot open, but then clamped shut again. _Oh God, she isn't going to stop until I do something but I don't know what she wants me to do – I can't hear her_

_It hurts too much to move anything else; can't she see that?_

He responded appropriately to the painful stimulus by opening his eyes briefly and pulling his foot out of her hand. Anne knew House was aware to some extent, but a method of communication had to be worked out in order to determine how aware he was.

House had been moving the toes on his right foot off and on for several hours.

2:30 AM Day 2

Anne had a brief conference with the other night shift nurses and all of them walked in to House's cubicle. They had to work out some type of communication method.

"Dr. House? Move your right toes." _No response._

"Dr. House, open your eyes." _ No response._

"Dr. House?" Anne said louder. _No response._

Anne touched his right big toe gently. He stiffened in response but did not open his eyes.

"Maybe the light hurts his eyes. Turn the big overhead light off, but leave the nightlight on." The overhead light was turned off.

"Dr. House? Open your eyes." _No response._

Anne touched his right big toe gently again. He stiffened in response and slowly opened his eyes.

Beads of perspiration appeared on his forehead as he squinted painfully and tried to get his bearings. Anne looked at his heart monitor and noticed the rhythm did not increase as it would normally do when waking someone with a healthy heart. The other nurses in the room noticed the same thing. They were expecting to see his heart rate increase during the neuro check and when he stiffened and opened his eyes.

It wasn't like House didn't already have enough problems.

Normally a patient with burns as bad as House's would be receiving quite a bit of pain medication, but they needed a better assessment of his pain and his level of orientation in order to determine how much pain medication he should receive.

Until they were able to elicit some type of response from him, it'd be next to impossible to assess his pain or his degree of orientation. An elevated heart rate, even in the absence of other responses, can be a good indicator of pain and agitation, but his heart rate didn't go up.

_They're whispering lies about me! Head feels like it's full of cotton. Wait, no, it's my ears… oh God, I can't hear anything!_

_They're whispering and lying and I think they want me to do something. Can't talk... can't move… hurts too bad…got this thing in my throat…can't breathe…I'm screwed _

House looked wildly around in the dimmed light. Although he had to squint, it didn't hurt so much to keep his eyes open now that the light had been dimmed. He saw Anne next to him looking down at him, and the other nurses at the foot of his bed. They all had that same Wilsonesque concerned frown on their faces.

He looked at all the IV meds he was getting, then he looked at his heart monitor.

_Dopamine. Norepinephrine. Oh my God._ _Must be in a hospital. Where's Wilson!! Can't talk, can't breathe, can't hear, oh shit, get me out of here_

He was quickly becoming overwhelmed and increasingly confused. His thought processes were becoming more and more scrambled as the moments went by.

He clamped his eyes shut again.

As much as Anne hated to do this while he was obviously starting to get agitated, she needed to finish the necessary task of establishing some kind of communication method with him.

"Dr. House, open your eyes." _No response._ Brenda had told Anne that House could be a total jerk, and Anne had heard that from some of the other nurses too. Anne had met House before in the course of taking care of his patients, but she was able to look past the jerkiness and see the man as a human being who, right now, needed to be able to communicate. Anne accurately assessed that, in addition to other possible neurologic problems, he was probably deaf.

Anne touched him gently and he slowly, painfully, opened his eyes. House squinted and looked at her expectantly, trying and failing to figure out what she wanted.

Anne simply pointed to his right foot. _Something wrong with my foot? _

House looked at her, completely and utterly confused.

Anne pointed to his right foot again and wiggled her hand, to try to show him she wanted him to move his right toes. _I don't know what she wants me to do but she must want me to do something with my right foot._ House stared at his right foot, wiggled his right toes and looked back up, questioningly, at Anne. _I hope that's what she wants._

Anne smiled broadly and gave him two thumbs up. House looked at Anne with something akin to a blank stare. _Ok, I have no clue who these people are. What… where…? Can't think straight_

Anne said "Dr. House, we…" and House stared expectantly at her face. _Can't hear you._ Suddenly remembering that he probably couldn't hear, she changed her tactic.

She grabbed a small write on, wipe off board. Beads of sweat started up again on House's forehead. He was so confused! He had no idea what time, or even what day it was. He didn't even know where he was; let alone what this strange woman was going to want him to do next. She wrote "Nod your head if you can read this" on the board and waited for him to nod his head. He wouldn't move his head or neck. He had no memory of the electrocution or of all the times he had been defibrillated, but Anne knew that after everything that had happened to him, he had to be in pain. Anne could see that he was becoming more and more agitated, but she also needed to briefly assess how alert and oriented he was before the agitation got out of hand. One way to assess orientation is by asking the patient his name and where he is.

Anne wrote "Write your name."

She put the board under his right hand, and gently pressed a marker into his right hand.

_No reply._

Anne took the board back and wrote "Write where you are."

She returned the board and the marker to him.

_No reply._

Anne took the board and the marker back, and wrote "You're in ICU at PPTH.

You coded in your office."

_If you say so, _thought House.

He scrunched his eyes shut. He was becoming increasingly more confused, disoriented and upset as the minutes passed. He couldn't process any more information.

Anne needed him to pay attention just for the next few moments. She thought he might be able to write. She gently tapped him again. His eyes shot open with anger and marked agitation.

_Stop it, gotta get out of here… don't touch me… can't move, hurts too bad… gotta get out…_ _suffocating… can't breathe…_

House started thrashing his arms wildly. The more he moved, the more everything hurt, which only escalated his agitation. He had no idea why everything hurt so badly.

He just knew he had to get out of there. He bit down on the breathing tube in his mouth. His teeth were clenched on the breathing tube and he wasn't getting any air.

His heart rate and blood pressure hadn't gone up even with all this agitation.

His oxygen saturation had crashed, though, because he wasn't getting any air.

Its alarm was blaring out loud. House was oblivious to the noise.

He wanted to scream _"Help me! I'm suffocating! Get me out of here!_". All he could do was violently but aimlessly flail his arms in the bed.

Anne realized she'd better forget the neuro exam for now. She immediately pulled out the syringe of morphine that she'd prepared.

Five seconds after she gave him the morphine bolus dose, he relaxed enough to open his mouth. Air rushed back in through the now-open breathing tube. Quiet began to descend upon the room again and House's entire body relaxed.

However, one more question still needed an answer while he was still awake enough to be able to write. She wrote "I just gave you pain medicine. Are you in pain?" on the board. She made sure his eyes were open and that he saw what she wrote. She put the board in his lap, put a marker in his right hand, and gently held his still weakly fidgeting right arm to the board so that he could write. Although he was feeling a little better, he still wanted to scream _YES!!!!!!!_

She wasn't surprised at the answer.

"YES" he weakly scribbled in big, wavering letters.

Anne started the continuous morphine IV drip.

"Ok, Dr. House. You're on a morphine drip now. From here on out, if your eyes are closed, we'll gently touch your right big toe if we need to get your attention. We'll keep the marker and the board on the bed where you can reach them." she wrote on his board. He looked at her with understanding.

A few minutes later, he was mercifully sound asleep.

4 AM Day 2

Cuddy and Kutner were sound asleep in the waiting room-turned-mobile diagnostics lab.

Anne came out to update Cuddy, but upon seeing that she was asleep, Anne decided not to wake her up.

House's external pacemaker was still attached to him, but his heart rhythm remained stable enough throughout the night that the pacemaker could remain turned off. With the morphine on board, House actually slept. For the benefit of anyone else entering his cubicle from now on, Anne made three identical signs to give anyone entering his room a necessary "heads up".

She taped one of the signs on the outside of the sliding glass door to his cubicle, one to the wall above his bed, and the last to the foot of his bed.

"Patient can't hear. If his eyes are closed, please try to let him sleep. If you still need to come in, touch his right big toe gently to wake him and give him a minute to open his eyes. Leave the overhead lights off when you don't absolutely need them. Use the little white board on his bedside table to communicate with him. He can write. If you transport him anywhere else in the hospital, take that white board too."

Dr. Miller had spent parts of the last 11 hours sucking down coffee and diving into House's old medical records. Although he'd made good headway, he still wasn't finished. He knew they had a myriad of problems to address. The fact that House was responsive was a very good sign. The apparent hearing loss was a little worrisome, but not life threatening. It could be explained by the fact that he'd had his IPod in his hand and its ear buds were in his ears when he electrocuted himself. Miller wasn't sure, but he guessed that House's deafness was due to the loud noise the IPod probably made when it got zapped. If that was the case, his hearing loss would probably resolve on its own to at least some extent. The extreme agitation, confusion and disorientation weren't surprising either, but House would be kept as comfortable as possible with the morphine. They could also add some other meds to relieve agitation if the morphine alone didn't. Miller would deal with those issues down the road if they didn't resolve on their own. The most urgent problems at this moment were his heart rate and blood pressure. House's cardiovascular symptoms were not really adding up. One plus one doesn't equal eleven. _Why the hell is he maxed out on TWO vasopressors but his heart rate and blood pressures are not reacting well to either of them? We subtracted the pacemaker, but had to increase the dose of another pressor. We should be subtracting, not adding…_


	8. Hey Boss Lady

Chapter 8 

**A/N – Warning - The medicine and angst, while intense up to this point, are about to get even more intense. I'm a nurse, but the story is a drama and not a medical education text. I'm not going to pretend that the medicine is 100% accurate. It'll be close, but not perfect I'm sure. Don't use any of this as a medical education! For example, I doubt that anyone who electrocuted themselves, had no heartbeat and was not breathing for a period of time would have any meaningful brain function left on the off chance that they could even be resuscitated at all. Obviously I had to take some liberties with that. In the TV episode, I thought Cuddy's attitude to House when he was lying in the hospital bed could have been a little more sympathetic, but I understand why the writers wrote her lines the way they did. For the purposes of my story, however, I pretty much completely overhauled the way she responded to this situation and made her much more sympathetic to him.**

**Another new character – Scott Volakis, radiology tech. I invented a brother for Amber.**

**Since I don't own House or any of the show's characters, and I don't own Family Guy, I'll also say I don't own Stephen Colbert. Read on and review!**

6 AM Day 2

Flight 4262 took off from Lexington bound for Newark.

Scott Volakis, the radiology technician, showed up in the ICU with the portable X Ray machine for the daily round of portable X Rays for all the ICU patients. Cubicle 1 was first on his list. _Oh my God, it's House_, he thought. Scott knew him from prior hospitalizations. He was there for the angiogram House had after the infarction, before the initial surgery. He also did House's X Rays after his gunshot. But there was another reason why Scott recognized House. _Where is Amber? Why hasn't she called me, _he thought as he shoved the X Ray plate under House's back.

Anne called the ICU waiting room to update House's people before shift change. Wilson hadn't come in yet, and Cuddy and Kutner were the only occupants of the newly remodeled waiting room-turned-diagnostics office. Cuddy answered the phone. "Dr. Cuddy, he's awake and he had a really eventful night. I came out at about 4 am to update you, but you were asleep and I didn't have the heart to wake you. His heart rate and blood pressure are no better and no worse. He's confused and apparently deaf. Although he had been moving his right toes since about 11 pm, we didn't see any other response to any kind of stimuli until about 2 am. I started doing another neuro check at 2 am and he started getting increasingly agitated, confused and disoriented. I'd asked him to open his eyes or move his toes, and he didn't respond. He'd open his eyes only when I touched him, and quickly clamp them shut again. He was thrashing all over the bed. He bit down on the breathing tube. I think he was trying to talk. I gave him a bolus dose of morphine and he relaxed enough that I could continue helping him to communicate. We confirmed that he can't hear, but he can see, read and write just fine."

"The overhead light in his room hurts his eyes too much, which is why he clamps and keeps them shut when we have to turn the bright overhead lights on. Obviously, with his eyes shut, he can't see anything we write. If we don't need the bright lights, they're off and we just leave the little night light on. He does fine with that. If we see that his eyes are closed and we still need to communicate with him, we gently touch his right big toe to get his attention without scaring or hurting him. He has a little white board in bed with him now. He's on a morphine drip too. He slept until he had to be awakened for his chest x ray."

Cuddy was quiet for a few moments. She knew how uncomfortable having a cold, hard x ray plate pushed under your back was even without any other injuries. Given the extent of House's broken ribs, probably broken sternum, and burns, a portable chest x ray, even though necessary, would be excruciating even if just for a few moments. She was relieved to know he was getting pain relief. She was happy that he was even awake enough now to experience pain, and even more so that he was able to communicate. _His brain wasn't gone_.

"Dr Cuddy, Dr. Miller is in radiology right now reviewing Dr. House's chest x ray from a little while ago. Dr. House is still maxed out on dopamine and norepinephrine, and we're not seeing the response we'd expect to see from his heart rate and blood pressure. He's still off of the pacemaker. His heart rate and blood pressure are stable on both of the pressors, but we can't wean them down. He went back to sleep after the x ray was done. I want you to come on in to his room anyway, even though he's asleep, so I can show you how we communicate." Lisa hung up the phone and went to his cubicle. She saw the signs Anne had thoughtfully posted. House was sleeping in the darkened room, and looked like a train wreck. Lisa switched off "doctor mode". Anne showed her where the night light was. Cuddy switched on the night light. Anne asked Lisa to gently touch House's right big toe, and Lisa did so with some trepidation. Lisa didn't want to startle or hurt House. To Lisa's great relief, House sleepily opened his eyes when she touched his toe.

He weakly picked up the marker in his right hand and barely scribbled on the little board lying on the right side of his bed….

"Hey boss lady".

Anne pulled up a chair next to the right side of House's bed. Cuddy melted into the chair with her hand gently on House's right foot, and comforted him.

7 AM Day 2

Dr. Miller went down to radiology to review the X Rays. They weren't ready for viewing yet but would be soon, so Miller drank the last of a lot of cups of coffee while he was waiting in the radiology viewing room for the results. Scott brought them in to Dr. Miller, and in a few minutes they'd also be ready for viewing on the hospital's computer system.

Miller was looking at House's chest X ray for heart size, the condition of House's lungs, the condition of his obviously broken ribs, to check for the probability of a broken sternum, and to re-check the position of the breathing tube in House's lungs.

House had six broken ribs and a lengthwise fracture in his sternum (breast bone). His heart was quite enlarged. The chest x ray showed that the breathing tube was in the correct position but there was another problem that they hadn't anticipated. Dr. Miller realized they SHOULD have anticipated it.

Given the time that it was estimated that Dr. House electrocuted himself (3 pm), he probably still had a full stomach from lunch. _Duh, wonder why we didn't think about this possibility last night_, thought Miller.

At some point during or after the electrocution, House had aspirated contents from his stomach into his right lung. Miller compared this morning's chest x ray to the one taken right after House had been admitted to the ICU yesterday. Yesterday's chest x ray didn't show any evidence of aspiration. It could still have happened during the code and just taken a little longer to show up on x ray. It could have happened when House got so agitated. Regardless of when it happened, it was pretty bad, judging from the appearance of this morning's X ray.

On a normal chest x ray, the ribs show up as white, but the lungs are mostly black because air is black on an x ray. The lungs are normally filled, mostly, with air. On House's x ray, the entire right lung looked like a preschool child had colored it with white crayon. Barely any air was getting into House's right lung because it was full of material that shouldn't be there. Dr. Miller could also see that the upper part of House's liver was pushing up on his diaphragm, so his liver was at least a little enlarged as well.

7:30 AM Day 2

Cuddy went back out to the waiting room after House dozed off again. Dr. Miller came out and updated everyone again. The sight in the waiting room again made him stop in his tracks for a few moments. Nobody looked like themselves! Dr. Wilson, obviously not well rested but freshly shaved and armed with a full cup of coffee in one hand and a wide variety of colored markers in his pockets, was standing in front of the big white board from House's outer office. Wilson was dressed in ratty old jeans and a tee shirt that looked like he'd slept in it – which was probably true. Cuddy looked terrible, but she was there too. Her normally beautiful long hair was scraggly, unkempt and she didn't care. She had shed her usual get-a-man low cut blouse and short skirt, in favor of some well-worn scrubs. Gone were the usual heels, replaced by House's tennis shoes. The sight of House's expensive Nikes on her tiny feet was laughable. They were several sizes too big for her, but she needed something more comfortable to wear instead of her heels, and she hadn't been home yet. Kutner had showered and shaved at the hospital and, like Cuddy, had on some faded scrubs. Taub, Thirteen, Chase, Cameron and Foreman were all in worn jeans and faded tee shirts. Miller doubted that any of them had slept. Cameron didn't even bother to tie her hair up, let alone put on any makeup. They all had ratty old tennis shoes on except Cuddy, who had House's good Nikes on, and Cameron, who was sporting bunny slippers. All were sitting around Wilson, attentively conducting a differential diagnosis right there in the waiting room that had been remodeled to suit their needs.

The desk that the ICU waiting room volunteer normally used was now covered with House's fake organs, his laptop, Bally, his yo-yo, his chess set, and his framed photo of Stephen Colbert. Cuddy figured if they were surrounded by House's toys, they might relax enough to tackle the two tasks they were about to be assigned.

At the hospital, the other ICU patients' visitors angrily milled about in the hallway waiting for ICU visiting hours to start. The ICU waiting room volunteer, upon arrival to his usual desk in the ICU waiting room, had been unceremoniously kicked out of the waiting room by Dr. Cuddy. So had all the other patients' visitors. Dr. Cuddy figured she would deal with the fallout later on, and Miller could have another room set up for the other visitors to wait in. She didn't care one iota about the volunteer or the other visitors right now. Dr. Cuddy had thrown all the usual brochures, magazines and newspapers (that are normally found in all waiting rooms) into a cardboard box and shoved the box out into the hallway. She'd had the TV in the waiting room turned off and she threw away the remote. She didn't want any of House's team reading or looking at anything that didn't have to do with Dr. Gregory House.

Dr. Cuddy was in "doctor mode" earlier when Wilson arrived. After updating him, Cuddy knew she'd need to switch "doctor mode" back off and she was glad to do so. For once, she was glad to be just Lisa Cuddy.

The rest of House's team began to arrive in the newly remodeled waiting room. By 7 AM, everyone who mattered (except House's parents, who hadn't arrived yet) was assembled in the waiting room. Even though they had a much more pressing concern to deal with, everyone in the room remarked about what Cuddy had done to the space. Though she doubted that anyone would partake in any of the fare, she had ordered bagels, lox, cream cheese, and orange juice for all from the cafeteria. Everything was spread out so that House's new, de facto family could be well fed for their task at hand. She knew this was going to be their home away from home for the foreseeable future, and they appreciated what she'd done. Then after Miller updated them, they all got down to business.

8:30 AM

Flight 4262 from Lexington landed in Newark.


	9. Their two tasks

Chapter 9

**A/N – this is a short chapter. I wanted to give you all a break from the angst before it gets really intense again.**

Lisa Cuddy wasn't in "doctor mode" anymore, or "administrator mode" either. She was a very worried unofficial family member of Dr. Gregory House, sitting in unofficially with House's team as they conducted their own, unofficial differential diagnosis. Cuddy started implementing her plan for House's eventual recovery. She knew NONE of those currently in the room were in any kind of condition or position to be making any medical decisions regarding House. She knew ALL of them were going to have to switch "doctor mode" off when it came to House. She knew that they were going to have to leave House's medical and nursing care in the hands of the very capable ICU staff. She also knew that it was impossible to expect herself, Wilson, and the rest of House's team to just sit around and worry without being able to do anything about the situation. They were all naturally task oriented. They all felt that they had to do SOMETHING. The issue at hand was, what could they do that would help House that wouldn't interfere with Dr. Miller's plan of care?

Lisa Cuddy had more or less made that decision for them all when she gutted the waiting room. House's office had pretty much been relocated to the waiting room. Furnishings had been set up for those who needed to sleep here, to do so comfortably. All other distractions not related to House's care were removed from the room. Other patients' visitors had been asked to leave and would continue to be asked to leave. This room was for House's people only, Lisa decided, for as long as they needed it. House's people would hand off any other cases they currently had to other physicians. House's people would follow her lead, and switch off "doctor mode" when they stepped over the threshold to their new temporary office space. They would unofficially conduct their own differential diagnosis in the waiting room. Nobody was to wear lab coats or business suits. They were to come dressed in whatever clothes they were comfortable in.

Now that the necessary remodeling was finished, the rest of Lisa's plan for House's recovery was simple.

Before she handed the reins over to Wilson to start the differential, she told the group that they were only allowed to do two tasks.

Task One was the unofficial differential. Regardless of whatever else was going on in the hospital, they would meet in this room, every morning, to continue coming up with ideas as long as House had any undiagnosed problems. After each discussion, Wilson would then present whatever ideas they came up with to Dr. Miller for his input. It would then be up to Dr. Miller to decide whether or not to act upon their ideas. Task Two was to begin the minute Task One ended.

Task Two was just to be with House, to be his family. Nothing more and nothing less. Cuddy made it VERY clear that they were to take their second task as House's unofficial family very seriously and with utmost respect for House and his parents. House might not like it, but he was going to need their support. They were to abandon any attitudes at the door to this room. They were to adhere to ICU visiting policy (which was pretty liberal anyway). Blythe and John were the only people, besides House, authorized to sign consents or any other paperwork for House. Blythe was House's healthcare proxy. House's team could ask questions of House's nurses and Dr. Miller's team, like any family, but they were not to challenge any of Dr. Miller's decisions. Since they were now House's "family", even though unofficially, they were not to conduct any medical procedures on House or order anything. Whether or not House would like it, all of them from here on out were his family. Everyone agreed, even though it looked like Taub would need some convincing. Cuddy sat down. Wilson started the differential.

9:30 AM Day 2

When Cuddy called House's parents yesterday, she had intended to meet Blythe and John in the waiting room before they went in to the ICU, to prepare them for what they would see. She thought Blythe would call her when they landed in Newark.

House's parents still hadn't called her.

After this morning's differential, Cuddy and Wilson went back to House's bedside.

House was awake, and Lisa wrote:

"I talked to your parents yesterday." _No reply from House._

"Your mom said they were catching the first plane out from Lexington." House painfully and slowly scribbled out "_When?_"

"No idea. She said she'd call when they get here."

In their haste to get from the airport to the hospital, however, Blythe had forgotten to call Cuddy to let her know they had landed in Newark. Newark is only about 40 miles from Princeton, but the traffic is notoriously horrendous. Transit time could be anywhere from about 45 minutes to maybe 2 hours or more depending on how many cars were lined up bumper to bumper on the highway. Their drive lasted exactly an hour. Blythe and John House just now walked in to an empty "ICU Waiting Room".

Blythe commented on the unusual appearance of the waiting room. She recognized her son's office toys. Blythe and John were both drawn to the white board. House's people had already had their morning differential in there. The whiteboard was absolutely crammed with scribbled medical terminology, most of which Blythe and John didn't understand. The waiting room was empty because Cuddy and Wilson were with House, and everyone else had scattered to take care of a few personal things before turning all their attention to House as well. John took his coat off and laid it on a chair. Blythe and John made their way together to the ICU. Blythe looked terrified of what she would see when she got there. John's expression was unreadable. Neither said anything to each other on the way in.


	10. The White Board

Chapter 10

Inside the converted waiting room, the whiteboard had already suffered extensive use.

A heavy black line had been drawn across the middle of the whiteboard, dividing it in half.

Scribbled on the top half of the whiteboard in Wilson's barely legible handwriting were the symptoms that House's team-turned-family could not attribute to any pre-existing cause:

Cardiomegaly (**A/N – this means enlarged heart**)

Hepatomegaly (**A/N - this means enlarged liver**)

Bradycardia (**A/N – this means abnormally slow heart rate**)

Hypotension (**A/N – this means abnormally low blood pressure**)

Photophobia (**A/N – this means afraid to open eyes**)

Scribbled on the bottom half of the whiteboard were the other problems for which the cause or causes were already known or suspected:

Burns

Deafness

Fx ribs, sternum

Aspiration and respiratory failure

Confusion, disorientation, possible hallucinations

Pain

Wilson had initially drawn a pretty picture of a house at the top of the whiteboard, but silly US Federal privacy regulations prevented him from putting House's name on the whiteboard in a public area where other patients' families could see, so he had to settle for leaving House's name and the pretty picture off of the white board.


	11. Blythe and John arrive

Chapter 11

11 AM Day 2

Cuddy and Wilson were ensconced in chairs next to House's bed. Dr. Miller was seated at the nurse's station in the ICU surrounded (and mostly hidden) by the rest of Miller's team and by the mountain of House's old medical records.

In House's cubicle, Cuddy's eyes were closed. She had laid her hand gently on House's right toes. House was asleep too. When he needed to get her attention, he'd just have to wiggle his right toes a little. Wilson had dozed off too. Cuddy startled awake as she suddenly felt House wildly moving his right toes under her fingers. She saw House staring wide eyed and tearfully at something behind her. Cuddy and Wilson turned around and saw Blythe and John standing there in stunned silence.

Suddenly Blythe turned and sped for the waiting room again in obvious emotional shock.

Upon seeing Blythe speed out of his room, House agitatedly burst out in tears and banged the bed rails with his burned hands over and over again, trying to get Blythe's attention and get her to come back in. Lisa immediately started trying to soothe House. House's nurse ran in to de-fuse the situation before his agitation got out of control. She gave him a little more morphine to help him relax.

John stood there at House's bedside, stonily silent.

Wilson followed Blythe and took John back out to the waiting room so they could talk privately.

Cuddy stayed with House to put out this fire.

"Come on over here. Let's all sit down and take a deep breath. I know you're worried to death about him and so are we. I need to let you know what we know, and then we should talk with Dr. Miller before you go back in to see him." Wilson said to Blythe and John after they got to the waiting room.

"Apparently he electrocuted himself. We don't know why, and really, right now it doesn't matter why. Apparently he stuck a knife into an electrical outlet in his office. We'll deal with the whys later." Blythe wailed uncontrollably. As John comforted Blythe with a hug, he looked over Blythe's shoulder at Wilson. John's expression became one of pure, silent fury. The unspoken message to Wilson was crystal clear. _Look what he's done to his mother. This is the worst in a long list of crazy shit he's done with absolutely no concern for what effects his actions have on others. I'm glad you still like him. I'm done with him._

Blythe didn't see John's reaction. In John's embrace, she calmed down and composed herself enough for Wilson to be able to continue with the update.

"His heart stopped and he wasn't breathing for quite some time. It took a really long time to get his heart re-started. He needed a pacemaker for awhile, but he's off of that now. The tube in his mouth is a breathing tube. He can't talk because of the breathing tube. He's on a respirator for now. He has several IVs and he's getting several medications through them to keep his blood pressure and heart rate stable. He's awake, but he's really confused and very easily agitated. He seems to be having trouble hearing anything. Read the signs in his cubicle and on his bed when you go in there, so you'll know how to communicate with him."

Wilson had so much more to tell them, but Blythe looked like she'd heard all she could absorb for the moment. They really needed to find Dr. Miller for the rest of the news, anyway. Blythe let go of John, hugged Wilson, and tearfully said "Thank you so much, James, for being such a good friend to our boy."

Wilson looked over Blythe's shoulder, straight at John and said nothing.

John got Wilson's unspoken message loud and clear. _Now let me send you an unspoken message, you rotten excuse for a father. Get out of here before I call security and have you banned from this hospital._

Wilson walked with Blythe back into the ICU.

Without any more ado, John gathered up his coat and his keys and left the hospital.

On his way to the hotel in Princeton that he'd booked a room at, John sent several text messages to Blythe's cell phone:

"_I'm sorry, honey. Love you with all my heart."_

"_Love him too but can't deal with him now."_

"_We're in room 613 at the Holiday Inn. Need to talk."_

"_Call me when you're ready and I'll pick you up."_


	12. Coughing

Chapter 12

**A/N I know that the tainted blood incident happened after the 97 seconds episode, but for the purposes of my story I needed it to happen before 97 seconds. So yes, I had to change the season 4 timeline around a little to suit my purpose.**

11:10 AM Day 2

Although the morphine had helped a little bit, Lisa was still trying to calm House down. He was still crying, but had stopped banging on the bed rails. Some of the agitation was gone. He had written "Where?" on his little white board several times. Lisa could tell it hurt him to write, but she was glad he had this method of communication.

"Do you mean, where are your parents?" Lisa wrote.

"YES" House wrote with frustration.

Just then, Blythe came back in to House's room, freshly composed and with a smile on her face. Wilson was right behind her, staring straight at Cuddy as if to say _Come out here; we need to talk. _

John's absence was conspicuous, and noticed by everyone in the cubicle.

Blythe didn't say anything about where John was.

Blythe thought her son looked exhausted and needed to sleep, so she took the board from House's trembling right hand. He banged the bed rail again and gestured that he wanted it back. Lisa said "Blythe, don't take that away from him again. I don't care if he's sound asleep. Leave it where he can reach it."

House wrote "Dad?"

Blythe wrote "He had to step out for awhile." She didn't want to go into any specifics and House didn't look like he wanted to hear any more, anyway.

House started coughing, setting off the alarms on the respirator. Millie, the respiratory therapist, came in to suction his breathing tube and help him get rid of what he had to cough up. House kept coughing, and his lips were turning a little blue. Millie gave him extra oxygen. His coughing fit eventually stopped and he closed his eyes to rest, utterly exhausted. Millie gave him a breathing treatment with medicine to ease his breathing. Millie explained that House's right lung was full of fluid, and that she was going to be giving him medicine through the breathing tube to help clear his airways every couple of hours. She explained the nurses would be suctioning him pretty often too, to help get the stuff out of his lungs.

House couldn't stay awake for more than about five minutes at a time. He seemed to be sleeping, albeit not very peacefully, and had stopped coughing for the time being.

Cuddy and Wilson stepped outside of his cubicle. Blythe remained with her son.

Cuddy's eyes said it all. _What happened?_

Wilson softly answered her unspoken question. "John bugged out on us. He won't even talk. He left the hospital. Actually, if he hadn't left on his own, I'd probably have called security and had his ass kicked out. He's still in town, but he's at the Holiday Inn. He's furious. The whole time we were in the waiting room, I was talking to Blythe, because John wouldn't say anything to me. John was staring daggers at me. I think he looks at House and sees failure; maybe he looks at his son and sees someone who's hell bent on self destruction and doesn't know how to help. Maybe he blames himself for the state House is in right now. I really don't know.

I do know, however, that House isn't in any condition to deal with him, so I guess it's best that he's not here."

Cuddy and Wilson walked back into House's cubicle.

12 Noon

House was coughing again, only this time the breathing treatment Millie was giving him didn't seem to be helping as quickly as the earlier one did. Cough, cough, cough… the respirator alarm blared, House bit down again on the breathing tube in a panic, and everything else started alarming. House, obviously, was completely oblivious to all the noise. All of this happened when he was on a pretty high dose of hourly morphine. He should have been much more sedated that he was, with this much morphine on board.

Miller ordered extra sedation, and as much as everyone hated to completely knock him out, they really had no choice. His day shift nurse gave him Ativan 2 mg IV – no help. Five minutes later House was trying to pull out every tube in his body, burns or no burns. Valium 5 mg IV was tried next, and it really just took the edge off. His battered body couldn't take any more agitation. They gave him more Ativan and finally succeeded in completely knocking him out. Unfortunately in the process, they had no choice but to restrain his arms, which meant that his communication line had been knocked out too.

12:15 PM, Day 2

Miller met with Wilson in the waiting room and saw for himself exactly what Cuddy, Wilson, and the rest of House's team had been up to out there. He saw the white board and smiled. _Now THIS looks like something House-like_, he thought.

_Hepatomegaly_. It hit Miller like a ton of bricks. _I've been going through his records for how long, now? At least 12 hours? So has my team. So did Lewis, briefly. Why didn't we think of this earlier. Duh – we had more important things to do, like get his heart beating…_

_I even saw a little of it on his chest x ray this morning. Liver failure? _

How long had House been on Vicodin? Miller didn't even know about the alcohol history, but when he saw the white board, Wilson filled him in. House's medical records indicated when the Vicodin was first prescribed, but House was taking much more than the 40 mg a day originally prescribed. His medical records held no indication that he was actually downing at least twice that amount, and had been for years. Wilson felt a little guilty, like back in the Tritter days when he ratted House out to Tritter. He felt like he was ratting House out yet again, but then Miller needed to know what he was dealing with. House was easily downing at least a fifth of bourbon a day, on top of all the Vicodin.

Then there was another issue. Wilson suddenly remembered the tainted blood incident.

"I'm not sure if this has anything to do with it or not, but recently House's team had a patient that had a possibly bad blood transfusion. I won't go into details about the patient but House needed to prove to them that the blood wasn't tainted. His team didn't want to do this, but House forced their hand. He made them give him the possibly tainted blood, all in an effort to prove that the blood was fine. He had a mild transfusion reaction. Kutner tried to help him, but House waved him off. Apparently he had developed a fever and some chest pain. If I remember right, I think Kutner told me that House had told him that he'd had a lot of transfusions in the past, that this fact would make him susceptible to a transfusion reaction, to just leave him alone, that he'd be alright. Since House wouldn't let his team do anything, they put some stuff in his coffee. They drugged him. I know, it's nuts. When he was out, they did a liver biopsy, a kidney biopsy and a lung biopsy. I was stunned that anyone would need to biopsy anything on House. I checked on House and he was a little short of breath and still running a little fever, but otherwise Ok. I was concerned about him but he kept telling me he was Ok, and refused any help. I looked at his biopsy results because I get copied on all biopsy results. I didn't know what the team was looking for. My immediate reaction was to look for cancer, and I didn't see any signs of cancer.

The lab might still have those tissue samples if you need them."

"Oh, my God," Miller said. Wilson continued to look a little bit like he wished he hadn't had to say what he did.

"We need to check his liver enzymes ASAP. I saw what I thought was a slightly enlarged liver on his chest x ray this morning. I could see the upper part of his liver pressing against his diaphragm. The blood might have had nothing to do with it but certainly alcohol and Vicodin could figure into all of this. I had no idea he was downing that much Vicodin and I had no idea he was drinking alcohol at all. He's not jaundiced, but jaundice doesn't always show up early in the course of liver failure, if that's what he has," Miller said.

"We've been drawing cardiac enzymes all along and they do show that he's had more heart damage. If there's liver damage too, that might explain why the drugs aren't working very well. We'll get a set of liver enzymes first, and then if they come back elevated we'll probably have to scan his liver. The problem is, he's not stable enough for a trip to radiology for a CT, PET or MRI. I'll let you know when the liver enzymes come back. We'll do a bedside Doppler ultrasound of his liver, too.

I'll check with the lab to see if they still have the samples, and if they're still viable enough for us to use.

And at some point in the near future, we're going to need to get psych involved."


	13. Steve McQueen

Chapter 13

2 PM, Day 2

They were having a terrible time keeping House's airway clear. Every 15 minutes, all he did was cough, cough, cough. He was perspiring and had developed a temperature. Cuddy and Wilson had taken a break, and Foreman and Thirteen were at his bedside. For once, Foreman was acting like a normal family member. Foreman and Thirteen were doing exactly as Cuddy asked them to do. They had stepped out of doctor mode and were just "family". Thirteen was even holding House's right foot during the coughing spells, which were getting more and more frequent. Foreman wanted so badly to step in and do something, but he didn't want to incur the wrath of Cuddy, and decided he'd better step back and just be there for House.

House had aspiration pneumonia. Miller had started him on antibiotics and increased the frequency of his breathing treatments. They were going to have to wait and give the antibiotics some time to start working. In the meantime, though…

_Hands tied down. _House was too confused and, now, sedated, to realize why his hands were tied down. He was moving his right toes to get someone's attention, ANYONE. Foreman tried giving him the marker to write on his white board, but House couldn't see what he was writing with his hands tied down and he was so sedated that his handwriting was not legible.

_I can't breathe_ _I'm suffocating I'm drowning._ During his breathing treatments, Millie caressed his forehead to calm him. She wrote "You have pneumonia" and "We're giving you albuterol treatments" but none of this mattered to House. For the most part he couldn't even open his eyes. All he could really do was think, and even his thoughts were muddled thanks to all the sedatives.

And so the cycle continued pretty much unabated the next few hours.

Cough, cough, cough, cough, gag, cough. Suction. Cough, gag, bite tube. Breathing treatment. More sedation.

2:45 PM

Dr. Miller's team did a bedside Doppler ultrasound on House's liver and confirmed hepatomegaly, and no liver cancer.

3 PM Day 2

Brenda reported for the start of her shift. She had actually called ahead to make sure that she was assigned to Cubicle 1.

When she walked in to Cubicle 1, she thought it was nice to see Cameron and Chase sitting with House. House's hair was going every which way and his 3-day scruff was flecked with various things that wouldn't ordinarily be there… but when Brenda went to get a wet towel to wash his face, Chase motioned her away. House was asleep. They both knew this was just a short break until his next coughing jag, and it wasn't worth waking him up just to wash his face.

6 PM Day 2

After several coughing jags, Brenda started noticing that House wasn't waking up at all, really, between coughing jags. Oh sure, he'd cough and flail around a little, but he couldn't stay awake long enough to write anything and the purposeful movement of his right toes was gone. Brenda hadn't had to sedate him at all. In fact she noticed his last dose of any kind of sedation was over three hours ago. She'd wondered why it took so much to knock him out in the first place. She also knew that he was still on the same dose of IV dopamine and norepinephrine. It was very worrisome that he still needed both of those medications and even more so that every time they tried to wean them down, it took much longer than it should to see any kind of change in his heart rate or blood pressure. A person on norepinephrine can have a faster than normal heart rate, and when weaning that medication down, one often sees an immediate and normal fluctuation in heart rate and blood pressure. House had some expected (and normal) heart rate and blood pressure changes as they attempted to wean his dopamine and norepinephrine down, but they were far from immediate. Miller decided that no further attempts would be made to wean either of these medications until they could figure out what was going on with House's liver, and get him awake again without undue agitation.

Brenda realized _Liver? Oh my God. No wonder it takes so long for his body to respond to most of these meds._ _We had to go up on dosages because he wasn't responding properly. He's saturated with sedatives, morphine, antibiotics, dopamine and norepinephrine. His liver isn't metabolizing most of this stuff like it should. _

Taub and Kutner were with House this time. Blythe kept popping in and out, but she couldn't take seeing him getting suctioned.

Taub was holding House's right foot and talking about whatever current gossip was going on in the hospital – who was cheating with who, etc… He knew House couldn't hear him, but House wasn't responding to anything and Taub felt stupid just sitting there doing nothing. At least House could feel someone was there if Taub had his hand on House's foot.

Kutner was watching TV and thinking the whole time.

_What if this isn't liver failure? Ok, maybe it could be, but what if the liver failure isn't due to the Vicodin and alcohol like they're saying? Didn't House have a rat? Does he still have Steve McQueen?_ Kutner immediately remembered he wasn't supposed to be in doctor mode. To watch him staring at the TV, dressed in ratty jeans and a faded tee shirt, one wouldn't even realize he was a doctor. But try as he might, Kutner simply couldn't switch completely out of doctor mode. Something he saw on TV kept making him think of House's pet rat over and over again.

Kutner startled Taub out of his mindless rambling by shouting out loud, "look at his toes!"

Taub said "Look at what? He isn't moving them. So I look at his feet. Boring."

Kutner said "No, I mean LOOK at his toes. Look at each toe. You do the right, I'll do the left. Look over all of his toes. In fact, look over his hands and fingers too. Look over everything. House has a pet rat. I have a hunch. I'll explain later. Just look. Look for cuts, scratches, bite marks, any areas of broken skin."

Taub looked at Kutner and said, "Are you nuts? He's burned. Of course he's full of broken skin. Big deal. Anyway, we're not doctors when we're in this room."

Kutner said, "but the right foot isn't burned. That's why I asked you to examine it. Just do it, Ok? Don't ask. Just do it."

So the two doctors who were not supposed to be acting as doctors started gently manipulating House's extremities every which way. Kutner had a hunch that what he was looking for was on House's right foot. He had a hunch that House had been trying to tell them this all along, if not consciously then subconsciously. If Kutner was right, then when House was purposefully moving his right foot all that time, he was trying to get peoples' attention AND, maybe, trying to get someone to look at his right foot. His brain obviously wasn't gone but maybe just a bit temporarily scrambled. If Kutner was right, they had to convince Miller too. Kutner didn't want to make it sound like they were trying to step on Miller's toes by diagnosing his patient, but Kutner just couldn't let this hunch go.

They couldn't find any areas of broken skin on his right foot, or anywhere else, that couldn't be accounted for by the burns. However, Kutner wasn't going to let this hunch go. Again, the facts were not adding up. If House had something this seriously wrong with his liver, then it must be of an acute nature and must have happened fairly recently. Everyone would have noticed chronic liver failure long before now.

Whatever was wrong had probably started before the electrocution, but not been symptomatic until now. Electrocution, by itself, doesn't cause liver problems. House would have known there was something wrong; even if he wouldn't have said anything, Wilson probably would have gotten it out of him. House knew, and had said many times, that he risked liver failure with the chronic Vicodin use. Surely something else had to be causing this; Kutner just didn't want to believe that Vicodin and alcohol alone were to blame. It was too easy. Nothing that was ever wrong with House was EASY.

Meanwhile, Blythe walked in to House's room. Taub looked at Kutner, feeling as though he should explain why they were looking House over so intently, but not sure what to say. Kutner shook his head _NO_ surreptitiously and said to Blythe, "Since he was moving his right foot earlier, we're trying to see if his right foot is hurt in some way." Kutner left it at that, and Blythe didn't seem to want any further explanation. After all, Kutner and Taub were "family", not "doctors", when they were in that room. They weren't supposed to be conducting any medical examinations at all when they were in that room.

Kutner had to go back to the waiting room. The big white board and House's fake liver out there were beckoning to him. If he couldn't switch off "doctor" mode, then his talents would be put to better use out in the mobile diagnostics lab in the waiting room.


	14. About damn time

Chapter 14

**A/N – Lots of angst to continue, but we're getting close to rounding the corner here. Someone's returning soon, but I'll warn you – just like the House writers are famous for doing, I am planning on making the return very **_**twisted**_**.**

7 PM Day 2

In the waiting room…

Kutner had been hard at work for the last hour.

The big white board had a lot more written on it.

"Hepatomegaly"

"Liver Failure"

"Failure to respond to meds"

"Leptospirosis?"

"Hepatitis?"

"Liver cancer?"

"Photophobia"

Kutner, Wilson, Chase, Cameron and Foreman and Cuddy studied the white board; Wilson standing at the ready, prepared with the markers. Green was for irony, according to House's rules. Wilson was ready with that black marker, ready to cross things out or add them as need be.

Thirteen and Taub were in the room with House.

"Hepatomegaly" (enlarged liver) – "They found evidence of it on his chest x ray this morning. The upper part of his liver was pressing up on his diaphragm – that's why they found it on a chest x ray. They can't take him for an abdominal CT scan or MRI because he's too unstable, but Miller did a portable ultrasound and they confirmed hepatomegaly." Wilson said.

"Liver Failure" – "Obviously, but it must be acute and we don't know how bad yet. Leave it on the board."

"Failure to respond to meds" – "Well, he is responding to some meds, but it seems to be taking much larger doses of some things to get him to respond, and even then, it's taking longer to respond than it would in someone with a healthy liver." Wilson said. "Leave it on the board."

"Leptospirosis" – "That's what I thought. Taub and I looked over him, especially his right foot since he had been moving his right foot so much. We thought Steve McQueen might have bitten him. We thought he might be trying to tell us Steve bit him in the foot, or he could have stepped in Steve's pee or something. He could have lepto if he had a cut anywhere and then gotten it contaminated while cleaning out Steve's cage. We couldn't find any cuts, and we couldn't find any other skin damage besides the burns." Kutner wasn't satisfied because he hadn't come up with the answer, but he was glad to be able to contribute something meaningful. Wilson crossed out Leptospirosis.

"Liver Cancer" – "Not likely" said Wilson. "If it was liver cancer and it was this advanced, either he or the rest of us would have caught it by now. Anyway, Miller said they didn't find any signs of cancer on the ultrasound." Wilson crossed out Liver Cancer.

"Photophobia" – "Lotta liver things can cause this" said Chase. "Leave it up there. It might resolve on its own when the liver stuff resolves."

"Hepatitis". – Bullseye. House's admission that he had received multiple blood transfusions in the past 10 years suddenly popped into Kutner's and Foreman's minds. Their eyes just lit up. Foreman hung his head down as if to say _That should have been my epiphany_. Kutner jumped up and shouted excitedly, "That's it! It has to be! If he has hepatitis, that's curable!! If he has hepatitis, that could account for the hepatomegaly and maybe it could account for a mild degree of liver failure. He could have gotten it during this last transfusion. There might still be a liver sample in the lab that we could look at. When we got that liver biopsy, we weren't looking for hepatitis. It wouldn't have popped up that soon anyway."

Wilson said "Add the Vicodin and alcohol on top of the possible hepatitis. Maybe we're not talking about a 'mild degree' of liver failure. Let me talk to Miller, we'll look at his liver enzymes and hepatitis antigen levels and we'll see what we're dealing with. Kutner, since you haven't switched out of doctor mode yet, you go down to the lab and see if they still have that liver tissue sample."

"Not a word of this to House when any of you go in his room, got it? If he recovers, we can talk with him about it then if he'll listen. I mean it. Not one word to him in that room! Pull Taub and Thirteen out of the room when you go in there. Tell them the same thing. As long as House is sick, we are NOT to discuss any of our diagnostic efforts with him or with his parents. Miller and Miller's team are the only ones to relay his medical information to him or his parents. Remember our job, while we're in the room, is to be his family and THAT'S IT."

7:30 PM Day 2

Kutner trotted off over to the lab. He was glad that neither he nor Taub had said anything to Blythe in the room. The lab didn't have the biopsy samples any more.

Wilson volunteered to spend the night with House, so that anyone else who wanted to could go home or else bunk in their new home away from home. Cameron couldn't suppress her almost pathological need to be needed, so she went in the room with Wilson. Cuddy, even more bedraggled than earlier, bunked in the waiting room. Kutner still couldn't bring himself to go home to an empty apartment, so he bunked in the waiting room too and everyone else went home. Blythe called John and went back to the hotel.

Cuddy ordered pizza for everyone and the waiting room was well stocked with cokes, coffee and bottled water. Nobody really had any appetite though. When the pizza arrived, it pretty much just sat there getting cold. Cuddy was exhausted and fell asleep where she was, on the couch. Kutner nibbled a little at the cold pizza, took a few sips of coke and just sat there, a little bit disappointed that there wasn't anything more he could do tonight.

They were going to have to wait until morning for the next round of lab results, the next discussion with Miller, and the next "have to deal with the parents" episode.

9 PM, Day 2

House's room

Wilson was in the recliner next to House's bed. He had his hand gently on House's right foot. The lights were dimmed, as they had been most of the day, and Wilson's need for sleep was winning out. Cameron was out like a light, in a chair in the corner.

Suddenly Wilson felt the movement. House's toes were wiggling again, albeit weakly. But they were moving!

Wilson shot up out of the chair and almost tripped over his cell phone's charger. House's eyes were open and focused on Wilson. House's little white board had been moved out of his bed since he really hadn't been in any condition to use it earlier that day. Wilson made a move to get House's little white board, and House's eyes followed him intently every step of the way.

Wilson wrote "Don't make me sorry for doing this!" on the white board, showed it to House, and untied House's hands. House cracked a hint of a smile and motioned anxiously for the marker. The more he woke up, the more he hurt, and the stronger the urge to cough got. House's lungs were not out of the woods yet. Wilson didn't think this moment of calm would last very long, and was anxious to read what House had to write before the next coughing jag took hold. He didn't have long to wait.

House scribbled "Time" and Wilson wrote "9 PM". House scribbled "Heart?" and Wilson didn't even have time to write a reply before the next round of wild coughing started. Cameron startled awake with a smile initially, then quickly turned worried as House was choking on his own secretions again. It was all she could do to let Brenda alone so Brenda could do her job. Wilson wanted so badly to just talk calmly to him, but knowing that House could not hear him, it wouldn't do any good. Wilson settled for calmly stroking his right foot and waiting for this round of coughing to finally stop.

Brenda suctioned him again and again until the secretions stopped coming up. House threw the marker wildly and tried to grab the breathing tube to yank it out. His lips were turning blue again even with the additional oxygen that Brenda was giving him. He wasn't in any condition to have the breathing tube out. He couldn't move his arms well enough to really pull anything out, due to the burns, but he gave it the old college try. Cameron stepped out of the cubicle and cried while Brenda tied his arms back down again.

The coughing stopped, and House succumbed to exhaustion and the effects of the continuous morphine drip. He hadn't received any more sedation (other than the morphine) for hours.

12 Midnight Day 2

House's cubicle

Anne was back again on the night shift. Wilson and Cameron were so glad to see Anne, House's savior. House's eyes were open again. He was completely exhausted but he wasn't coughing as much any more. Coughing is common when you have a breathing tube in, Wilson realized. He also realized House had been coughing so much because he had aspiration pneumonia. Coughing when you just have pneumonia is painful, but when you also have broken ribs and a broken sternum, it's torturous. House had received enough doses of antibiotics to this point that they were starting to get on top of the pneumonia, even though it'd be at least a week before he could get off of them. It was promising, though, that the time between coughing jags seemed to be getting longer. House was able to get some rest periodically. This time, he was awake, and didn't seem headed for another coughing jag. Wilson was awake, but his eyes were closed and he was beginning to doze off. Cameron was asleep again in the corner.

Anne immediately gave him his little white board and marker without waiting for House to motion that he needed them. _Who moved it out of his reach? _she thought. _I'll kill them, if he doesn't do it himself._

She smiled. He cracked a hint of a smile and wrote "about damn time."

She wrote "For what?"

He wrote "To see you."

She wrote "Want Wilson?"

House looked around, saw his two roommates, wrote "No – sleep"

and closed his eyes and surrendered to sleep.


	15. Scott Returns

Chapter 15

4 AM, Day 3

Cuddy and Kutner looked terrible. Neither had slept well. Cuddy's hair was absolutely wild. House's huge Nikes were strewn about haphazardly on the waiting room floor, as were Lisa's socks. She looked like something out of a Halloween movie, sitting on the couch trying to get her wits about her. She still had on yesterday's faded scrubs.

Kutner looked even worse. He had given up the couch and moved over to one of the full sized futons but still managed to make it look like a hurricane had hit the futon. Sheets were tangled up every which way around him, his hair stuck out like Coolio's on a bad hair day, and he'd shed his scrub bottoms for a pair of worn out boxers. What a sight.

But both eagerly sat up when the equally disheveled Wilson and Cameron walked in with smiles on their faces.

"He's awake." Wilson said.

"He's flirting a little with Anne." Cameron added.

"He still looks like hell and he's still on the dopamine and norepinephrine. They can't wean him down off those yet. He's still on the morphine drip and nobody's going to do anything with that yet. He's not coughing as much but he's still coughing. It's just not as bad as it was yesterday. The fever is going down. All the sedation from yesterday FINALLY wore off. He's still easily agitated but not as bad as yesterday. Anne untied his hands and they're still untied. He hasn't managed to rip anything out yet," Wilson said. At that, Cuddy and Kutner cracked a tired but welcome smile.

"We're going home to rest a little and get cleaned up. We'll see you back here at 8 am in this room. Why don't you go in there and sit with him awhile." Wilson said.

Neither Cuddy nor Kutner needed to be asked. Cuddy reminded Kutner that he wasn't House's doctor and he could do anything or talk about anything in House's room as long as it had nothing to do with House's medical situation. Kutner knew, as much as it went against his nature and against his House training, he'd have to do just that.

Kutner, who had been walking with Cuddy into the ICU, made an about-turn and darted back for the elevators. "I'll be in there in a sec… I just have to get something first" he smiled and said to Cuddy.

Kutner was gone for awhile.

Cuddy went in to House's cubicle, completely unsure of what she would see. House was clean, because Anne had just given him a bath. Even his hair was clean. He was certainly cleaner than his new family. He was also sound asleep. _Doesn't take much to wear him out_ Cuddy thought.

He was shaven!! _Oh, he's gonna hate Anne for that. _Cuddy grinned to herself. Then she realized Anne had done House a huge favor. With all the tape on his face holding the breathing tube in, he'd be much more comfortable clean-shaven.

He was breathing a little bit on his own, but still connected to the respirator. He would need that until the pneumonia cleared up, and maybe until the heart and blood pressure issues cleared up as well. Cuddy knew that could be awhile.

Just as Cuddy was settling herself into the recliner on the right side of House's bed, with her hand gently on his foot, she realized Kutner was still missing. _Guess he's afraid to come in here_ she thought. _Well, maybe Kutner needs more time._

A few minutes later, Kutner crept into House's room with a huge smile on his face and a little "present" wrapped in green wrapping paper with a bright red bow on it. On it was a gift tag marked "Merry Christmas, House. Love, Hugs, and Kisses, Kutner" and drew a big red heart on the gift tag.

He silently left the "gift" on House's bedside table where House could reach it when he woke up.

Kutner sat down in the corner chair and pulled out the latest New England Journal of Medicine. Cuddy smiled at Kutner and mouthed the words "What's that?". Kutner shook his head, smiled, and mouthed "Later".

6 AM Day 3

Lisa heard the sound of the x ray technician coming into the ICU with his portable x ray machine. Since he started at the opposite end of the unit, Lisa figured she'd have a few minutes to get up, stretch, and wake Kutner. They'd let House sleep as long as possible before the x ray technician came into his room for his morning x rays. Lisa knew that House would need a lot of help to move so that they could get the x ray plate underneath him, and she and Kutner would be glad to help him. But until then, he needed to sleep.

Suddenly, a loud clatter was heard outside House's cubicle and all hell broke loose.

Scott Volakis was back. He threw open the sliding glass doors to House's cubicle, barging in and swinging a big heavy metal x ray plate. House, who had been asleep since the last round of wild coughing at 5 am, shot awake with a wild glare towards the door, flailing all extremities and trying desperately to write something on his little white board. He was so agitated that nobody could read his handwriting.

"You crazy son of a bitch!" Scott screamed. "Fire my ass. I don't care. Amber tried to save your sorry ass, and you had her fired! You can die for all I care, you crazy bastard. You tried to kill yourself. My sister tried to save you. Why, I don't know. Hell, nobody on your team likes you. You're lucky anybody responded to your page at all. Amber told me what happened. You should have died when you got shot. I'm putting you out of your misery." Scott took aim straight at House's face with the heavy metal x ray plate.

Kutner tackled and shoved the guy out of the cubicle.

Cuddy called security and the police.

Anne, who had been on the phone with Dr. Miller giving him an update, threw the phone down and ran in to House's cubicle.

House was beyond hysterical. All the progress he had made the last eight or so hours went completely out the sliding glass doors to his cubicle when Scott barged in.

House was using his left hand to wildly yank on every tube he could find.

He was crying, scribbling illegibly all over the board and anything else within reach of his right hand.

When Scott barged in, House kicked out with his left leg trying to fend off the obviously imminent attack from Scott.

Kutner immediately tackled Scott, shoved him outside the cubicle and pinned him to the floor waiting for security and the police.

Cuddy had her hands on both of House's arms trying to hold him down and direct his attention away from the melee outside his sliding glass door. She was trying to get him to look at her face. She was slowly enunciating the words "I've got you, you're all right, Scott's gone, he's not coming back, calm down, you're all right," in the hopes that she could get him to focus on her face and read her lips.

House was entirely too agitated to pay attention to Cuddy, and Lisa couldn't let go of him to write anything on his little white board.

House started biting on the breathing tube wildly trying to talk to Cuddy. He bit a hole in the cuff in the breathing tube.

Air started hissing out around the breathing tube.

House was in deep trouble.

The oxygen saturation monitor showed that his oxygen level was dropping rapidly.

House unclenched his teeth from around the breathing tube, but he was gasping shallow breaths desperately and not getting enough air. The pneumonia hadn't cleared enough for him to be able to breathe adequately without the breathing tube. He was too weak and his ribs hurt too much to take deep enough breaths.

He panicked, and panicked, and panicked some more. He had no way to communicate with anyone else, and he had no way to understand what Cuddy was trying to tell him.

As Miller, Anne and Millie rushed in to give him more oxygen and replace the broken breathing tube. Miller looked up at House's heart monitor and realized House's heart beat was responding appropriately, for the first time, to the additional stress.

Cuddy stepped out knowing that several things were likely to happen:

He'd have to be sedated again

This additional sedation would likely not clear out of his system any time soon due to the liver problems

Cuddy'd fire Scott immediately and file assault charges with the Princeton PD

Amber was apparently now a security risk for House. Cuddy was the only one who possibly could have fired Amber, and she hadn't fired Amber because she hadn't even seen or tried to contact Amber. Amber was the last thing on anyone's mind before now. Cuddy wasn't even entirely sure Amber had done anything criminally wrong other than waiting too long to call the code. Now Amber was on the loose somewhere and evidently thought she had been fired. They'd seen Amber in House's office during the code, but they hadn't seen her since then. Cuddy knew that Amber knew House was transported after the code to the ICU. Now, Amber knew that House wasn't dead yet. Cuddy knew that Scott had been talking to Amber. Now they had to worry about what might be in Amber's cold, calculating mind. Cuddy would have to have security ban Amber from the hospital. She'd also have to have security guards in front of House's cubicle day and night.

Even with about nine big burly cops and security guards there, and Scott firmly handcuffed on the floor, Kutner couldn't let go of the guy. The cops were trying to pull Kutner off the crazy loony. Kutner had a hold of the guy's hair and started slamming his face into the ground. Finally someone managed to peel Kutner off of the guy.

6:30 AM Day 3

Inside the cubicle, peace descended.

The breathing tube had been replaced.

House had been sedated with enough drugs to knock out an elephant.

Kutner was quietly sitting with House, nursing his bruised knuckles, and crying.

His precious "gift" to House lay in pieces in the corner.

It was the shattered remains of House's portable Playstation.

Outside the cubicle was an entirely different matter.

The scene was chaotic.

Day shift nurses were in the process of arriving, gathering around the time clock to clock in for their shift. They caused a traffic jam when they all just stopped and stared at the security guards and cops.

Two security guards were now posted outside House's cubicle.

Dr. Miller and Millie were at the nurse's station documenting everything that had happened.

Anne was right outside House's sliding glass doors, with her eyes firmly fixed on her patient, and talking to the police at the same time. Cuddy and Anne were giving witness statements to the Princeton cops. Anne had never had to speak to a police officer before under any kind of circumstance. Doing so after Crazy McLoony bin had just barged in and apparently tried to kill her patient was absolutely unnerving, to say the least. Considering that what her patient had just been through was a hundred times worse, though, Anne knew that she could handle this conversation confidently.


	16. Clean Shaven

Chapter 16

**A/N – The rat idea actually came from the episode with Joel Gray back in Season 3, "Informed Consent". In my opinion Joel Gray was the best guest star the series has ever had, with David Straithairn now being a close second and Dave Matthews third. Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own the show or characters from it.**

8 am Day 3

The 6 am disaster pretty much guaranteed House would be out of it for the rest of the day, Cuddy thought sadly. Lisa had been encouraged by House's progress, albeit slow, and she didn't know how many more "setbacks" he could handle.

House obviously didn't get his regular morning chest x ray, which was necessary to follow up on his pneumonia. His day shift nurse called someone else from radiology to come in and do it as quickly as possible while House was still out.

Dr. Miller was on his way to the waiting room with a gigantic cup of House's favorite iced coffee, "Mocha Frappalicious", to drop in on this morning's unofficial daily differential diagnosis involving House.

Cuddy and Kutner were definitely looking worse for the wear. Wilson and Cameron had at least showered, but were still pretty ragged looking. Taub, Thirteen, Foreman and Chase were the most alert-looking of any of them.

Wilson stood at the whiteboard:

"Hepatomegaly" – most likely due to acute hepatitis, House's new family agreed.

"Bradycardia" – resolving

"Hypotension"

"Photophobia" – still a problem, but would most likely resolve when the hepatitis resolved

"Deafness"

"Burns"

"Fx Ribs, Sternum"

"Pneumonia" – Chase said "He's responding to the antibiotics, finally."

"Confusion, disorientation" – "Not surprising," Foreman said.

"He seemed pretty oriented, though, when Wilson and I were in with him last night," Cameron said. Foreman said "Leave it on the board until it's resolved. It's probably due to the liver stuff."

Wilson said "Hepatitis" – "We have to figure out what kind."

Kutner chimed in anxiously, "I was thinking it could be Hep E. He could have gotten it from his pet rat. I picked up a copy of the New England Journal of Medicine and they had this real cool article about a guy who trained animals for TV shows. He had a couple of trained rats. He got Hep E and they traced it to the rat droppings in the rats' cage. The hepatitis panel should be back soon." Kutner couldn't suppress a smile.

Miller smiled and admired their handiwork. "I really don't have anything to add except I noticed that his heart rate responded by itself to all that mess this morning. Maybe it's time to try weaning the norepinephrine down again. We can leave him on the dopamine for now, and just try weaning the norepinephrine down first. If this is Hep E, that's good news. Can't cure Hep E, but it usually resolves by itself as long as we treat the symptoms."

Everyone smiled except sourpuss Foreman, but even Foreman couldn't deny the fact that this was the first good news they'd heard in three days.

Cuddy couldn't go home yet. She had a call to make to human resources and needed to follow up with the Princeton PD.

Kutner sacked out in the waiting room after icing his bruised knuckles and gorging himself on doughnuts, cereal, juice and coffee.

Cameron and Thirteen each ate their fill of all the free food in the waiting room and started talking among themselves, eagerly awaiting their turn with House. Cameron thought _it's pretty sad that the only time everyone else wants to be with him is when he's a patient and too sick to talk back._

Wilson had his morning carb and coffee fix and went back to House's office. There were a few more things they'd need pretty soon, once House woke up again.

Foreman and Chase took their turn in with House.

10 AM Day 3

The ICU was hustling and bustling. Many of the other patients had their own crises going on, and every nurse, doctor, and respiratory therapist in the unit was busy putting out fires.

_Gotta move – can't hear anything – why can't I wake up _thought House. He felt like he was floating in a cloud somewhere; like he was in some kind of a dream that didn't make any sense. Then he thought he remembered the assault this morning. He could see Scott's face, beet red and wild-eyed, staring down at him and the heavy x ray plate being swung at him. It still all felt like a horrible nightmare that he could not wake up from. It was like that moment between sleep and wakefulness when one is aware and yet paralyzed at the same time.

Miller came in to House's cubicle to check on how things were going, now that they had started weaning the norepinephrine down. "Beep, beep, beep, beep" responded House's heart monitor. His heart rate and blood pressure were holding their own on the reduced dose of norepinephrine. It was time to take the arterial blood pressure monitor out of House's left wrist. Miller felt that they could safely leave it out.

While House's nurse was preparing the supplies she'd need to pull the arterial line out, Foreman gently shook House's right toes to wake him for the procedure.

Chase looked at Foreman and said "Are you crazy, man? He doesn't need to be awake for this." Foreman said "It doesn't hurt and we need to find out how alert he is."

Chase smiled that mischievous smile of his and said "I'll deck you myself if you wake him up now. Let him sleep!"

Foreman took another look at House. His eyes were moving underneath closed eyelids. "Either he's in REM sleep or he's trying to wake up. I don't think he's really asleep. I think he needs to know what she's going to do before she does it. He deserves to know what's being done to him."

Again, Foreman gently shook House's right toes. Slowly the eyes opened and House glared at Foreman. _Well, guess the Big Guy has something on his mind_ thought Foreman.

"They're pulling the arterial line out" Foreman wrote on House's white board.

"No shit" House wrote with his right hand, just as Anne was pulling the stitches out of the arterial line in his left wrist.

House kept glaring at Foreman angrily for the few minutes it took Anne to pull the art line out.

"You ok?" Foreman wrote, then realized _what a stupid question. Too late to take it back, I guess_.

"Peachy" House scribbled, weakly.

Chase, in his chair in House's cubicle, was quietly pondering something. He wondered why, of all the things that had happened to House in the last three days, the thing that bothered him the most was that House had been clean-shaven. The near-assault was a shock, but that kind of thing had happened before. It suddenly occurred to him why this bothered him so much. Chase thought _He's been clean-shaven against his will. _Chase knew it was for a good reason, and that if the choice was between shaving his face clean or having his beard ripped out hair by hair when they changed the tape, anyone else would prefer being shaved clean. House wasn't like everyone else, though. It might be a petty little thing, but in the past, things that had been done to House "for his own good" had almost always been done _against his will,_ and hadn't gone so well for House. And it wasn't just the leg surgery, either. He'd been detoxed against his will during the Tritter debacle, and once the Tritter mess was over with, House's narcotic dependence became worse than it had ever been.

Chase had known House longer than anyone else on House's team. He'd never seen House clean shaven. House's three-day stubble was as much a part of his identity as his piano or his wit. Being shaven against his will was like stripping House of his identity. It really bothered Chase that House had been shaven against his will, and he couldn't get it out of his mind. Of all the news House would have to deal with soon, Chase was certain that this was just one more thing he'd lash out against.


	17. Liars

Chapter 17

1 PM, Day 3

House opened his eyes and took in the view of Cameron and Thirteen looking more ragged and tired than he had ever seen them. Cameron had the bunny slippers on, and House thought _I got something to say about that _but realized by the time he'd gathered the strength to write his one-liner about a Playboy Bunny, it would have lost some of its punch and it wasn't worth wasting the energy on. So he settled for wiggling his right toes and sticking his tongue out at her around the breathing tube. _Ok, so even that isn't coming out right but what the hell…_

Thirteen wrote "House, do u know who that loony bin x ray guy was?"

House wrote "No idea"

Thirteen wrote "Amber's brother Scott"

House wrote "Never knew the ho had a bro"

House wrote "Don't care"

House wrote "Heart?"

Thirteen and Cameron looked at each other, unsure of what to say. House caught the look right away and his calm countenance switched to fury in a minute. He misunderstood them, and thought they were keeping something from him. _They're hiding something and I can't do a damn thing about it_._ Tell me what's wrong with my heart!!_

They were trying to decide HOW to answer him, not IF they were going to answer him. He had no way of knowing this. His heart rate shot up. He was furiously pounding the little white board trying to get them to write whatever they thought was wrong with his heart. House's nurse came in slowly so as not to upset him any more than he already was, and upon seeing the heart monitor, started smiling. House misunderstood her smile. He thought _she's laughing at me. Nobody will tell me what's wrong with my heart and now they're laughing at me._

House threw the white board at the nurse and threw the marker at Thirteen.

"Oh my God, he thinks you're laughing at him!" Thirteen said.

Now Thirteen, Cameron AND the nurse were looking at each other trying to figure out a way out of this sticky situation. They needed to assuage his fears but they also needed to leave the medical discussions to Dr. Miller. House did not need to start a differential on himself, which was what they were afraid he would do, and the last thing anyone else wanted to do was cross Cuddy or step on Dr. Miller's toes.

_Hmmm… now what do we do_? thought Cameron.

All three of them were smiling now. House's increased heart rate was a wonderful thing. He was now completely off the norepinephrine and they were weaning the dopamine down too. The increased heart rate and stable blood pressure were expected and normal. It was wonderful to see his heart rate go up the more upset he got. However, nobody wanted to see him upset for no reason.

Cameron said "We should tell him."

Thirteen said "No, let's get Miller to tell him."

House knew they were talking about him but not what they were saying. _They're talking over me like I'm a dumb idiot_ House thought.

Leaving Cameron and Thirteen to bicker, House's nurse grabbed the white board and the marker. She wrote "You're doing great"

House wrote "Liar."

The nurse thought for a minute. House misinterpreted her pause and thought _she must not be too bright if it takes her this long to make up more lies_.

House pointed again to what he'd just written, and pounded on the white board again out of pure frustration at his inability to speak or to hear.

The nurse wrote "You had a heart attack when you stuck the knife in the wall outlet"

House looked at her with wide eyes and wrote nothing. _Obviously, I had a heart attack, but why? What knife? What outlet? Shit – electrocuted?_

The nurse wrote "You were on a pacemaker for a long time" _Pacer?? Was I dead?_

The nurse wrote "You were on dopamine and Levophed for the last three days but you're off them now." _Three whole days… Oh my God… I really was dead_

The nurse waited for him to write something, but no response came.

Cameron and Thirteen stopped their bickering and looked on with interest at the conversation taking place on the white board.

The nurse wrote "You Ok?" then immediately smiled and wrote "Ok, stupid question" and "Tell me what you're thinking".

House looked at all three of them and wrote "you're not lying?"

_No_, they all shook their heads, smiling.

House wrote "Not funny – don't smile"

Since there was no more room on the board, the nurse erased it and wrote "We're smiling because heart is improving"

"Dr. Miller needs to tell you more, but later. Rest."

House wrote "Lungs?"

The nurse wrote "Pneumonia is improving. REST!"

House, having used up every last drop of energy, let his eyelids droop closed and started drifting back off to sleep. He had so many more questions to ask, and his thoughts were still in overdrive, but his body was running on empty.

Just as he was surrendering to sleep, he jerked awake. He was still seething with frustration and wasn't quite ready to let it go just yet.

House wrote "DEAF", slammed the board down on the bed. He closed his eyes to shut out the world for awhile, and within minutes was sound asleep again.


	18. Blythe's story

Chapter 18

**A/N – Love all the reviews!! Ok, here ya go – four chapters in one day. This must be a record. Actually I already have a lot more of the story written. You're just going to have to wait with baited breath for more **

**Look at it like we're watching the real show. I suspect that the show's episodes are probably taped well in advance of air date, but TPTB insist on making us loyal viewers wait for weeks between new episodes. Heck, I'm doing pretty good getting new chapters out every few days!**

**And yes, in One Day, One Room, during Season 3, House revealed for the first time that he suffered abuse at the hands of his dad. But during that episode, he never told anyone else except the patient. **

**I got the information on Acute Acoustic Trauma from medicinenet dot com**

4 PM Day 3

Brenda, bright eyed and bushy tailed, walked in to House's cubicle with Ron Jenkins, Audiologist. House was asleep. Blythe, Chase and Cuddy were in the room with him. All three were very awake. Cuddy had managed to get away long enough to clean up and change into a clean pair of scrubs and her own tennis shoes. Cuddy and Chase stared daggers at Brenda and Ron, and Cuddy said "Please, whatever you do, don't wake him up."

Ron explained he needed to do an audiology evaluation but the physical exam part could wait until House woke up. Ron explained that he needed to talk with someone who knew House well enough to give a history. Chase retorted "For God's sake, man, there are boxes full of his old medical records out there at the nurse's station – do some research first before you come in here!"

Ron said "If he has a blast injury, we call it acute acoustic trauma, and it's fixable but I need to get the ENT doc down here. If that's what it is, they can fix it. Loud noise 'blast' injuries can cause a hole that the ENT doc can fix, but the sooner they fix it, the better. Actually, I know the ENT doc is coming down early this evening to see him. I need to know if he had any hearing loss, even minor, before this event."

Cuddy said "Ok, Chase, let's keep it calm in here. I know everyone's tired and probably a little on the crabby side, but you need to keep your voices down even though he can't hear you. No need to get upset. Chase, go on out with Ron and tell him whatever you can. Blythe and I need to talk, anyway."

Ron and Chase stepped out of House's cubicle. Chase led Ron over to where the boxes of House's old medical records were. Chase said "If you're after a history of hearing problems, I don't think he has any history of hearing problems. All I can tell you is he listens a lot to music. He always has his stereo on in his office or else he is listening to his IPod. I don't know if his IPod was on when all this happened but I do know that the IPod was in his left pocket and the ear buds were in his ears. My guess is that he was listening to the IPod when he electrocuted himself. I'm guessing the IPod emitted a loud noise when it got zapped, and maybe that's why he can't hear." Chase then immediately walked away back to House's cubicle before Ron had a chance to reply. Chase thought it was too early for an audiology consult, anyway. He left Ron to his task of combing through the boxes of House's old medical records.

Back in House's cubicle, Cuddy told Chase and Blythe she needed to talk with all of them outside his room.

"I think we are all getting on edge here. Chase, there was no reason to be upset with the audiologist. He never said he was going to wake House. I need to know if you are here just because you think you owe me something. If that's the case, then you're not here for House, and you need to get out. If you're here, like the rest of us, for House, then you need to be nice to everyone who comes in the room." Chase just looked at her wide eyed like he'd seen the devil incarnate or something. "I wasn't being mean to the guy! I was worried he'd wake House up for no reason. There was no reason to ask a medical history when there are boxes of it right outside this room." Cuddy said "Chase, I'm serious. Either you're here because you want to be, for House, or you're not. If you're not, then go home now. If you really want to help House, then shut up and be nice to everyone." Chase said "Yeah, you're right. Sorry about that" and walked quietly back into House's cubicle.

Cuddy turned to Blythe. "Blythe, what's going on with John?"

Blythe looked unsure of herself, like she knew what the problem was but was afraid to talk about it with Cuddy.

She started talking, hesitantly, but obviously she was putting a lot of thought into what she said.

"Lisa, I don't know how much you know about Greg's childhood." Blythe hesitated.

"John is very set in his ways. He never had any problem with professional relationships, but he did with personal ones. John respects and admires the Marine Corps way of thinking. He has never had any problem making friends or maintaining business relationships with his colleagues in the Corps. But that is all on a professional level. On a personal level, he can be very difficult to live with."

Cuddy said nothing, waiting for Blythe to continue at her own pace.

Blythe choked up a little, and hesitated more. "John and Greg never got along."

Cuddy said "What do you mean, they never got along?"

Blythe said "John really thought he was trying to be a good father. John's idea of fatherhood revolved mostly around discipline. I think that probably came from how John was raised. John expected no talking back and immediate obedience to anything he asked Greg to do. Greg was never a bad child, but he was always very inquisitive. He asked a lot of questions. I think John took it as a sign of disrespect."

Cuddy said "I bet House was quite a handful as a child."

Blythe said "Yes, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. John, however, took almost everything Greg said as a sign of disrespect. Greg was always a delight for me to talk with. He is a great conversationalist. Always has been. He was very bright as a child and he and I used to have the most interesting discussions about religion or politics or the news of the day. John, however, took those kinds of conversations as though Greg were insulting him. John thought Greg was trying to "talk down" to him. Whenever John got involved, those conversations always broke down into arguments and Greg always lost. Basically, you either agreed with John or else you didn't talk to him about those things. But those things are what always interested Greg. Greg and John really never developed a close relationship."

Cuddy said "But Blythe, that doesn't explain why John left the hospital and won't come back, even just to be with you. Something else is going on, I think. I need to have some idea if there is something else going on, because House needs everyone to be on his side to get him through this. John can't walk out on him again just when he needs us all the most."

Blythe hesitated again and said "Like I said, John took most of what Greg said to him as disrespectful, even though Greg was really not disrespectful to him. I'm not sure I'm really ready to talk about this because I think Greg wants it put behind him."

Cuddy said "But it's not behind him. Something made him want to electrocute himself, and something made him terribly upset when you and John walked in to his room. I don't think it was you. I think it was John. I'm not saying it's John's fault, but judging by John's behavior, John isn't helping. Blythe, maybe I can help with this. You can tell me, or if you'd rather not, I can arrange for you to talk with someone else who can help."

Blythe said "Well, back in those days the common wisdom was, spare the rod and spoil the child." Now it was Cuddy's turn to hesitate, as she thought she knew where this conversation was going. It needed to happen, though, and if Blythe was willing to talk, Cuddy would let her talk on her own terms.

"Frankly, I was terrified of John when he got mad at Greg. I never did understand it. Greg never did anything to warrant the kind of punishment John dished out. I wish I had done something about it then, but that was before we had such a thing as the Division of Family Services, someone to whom abuse could be reported and then they would step in and help with the situation. I had nobody except the Marine corps doctors at whatever base we happened to live at, and I was afraid that whatever I said would get back to John and then I'd have hell to pay for it. I did talk to the pediatrician a couple of times when I had to bring him in for school physicals and they mentioned the bruises and so forth on Greg's body. I told them some of the things John had done to Greg. I don't remember any of the doctors saying anything to try to help. I know some of them were friends with John and maybe they were afraid to cross him. If I'd known then what I know now, I never would have married John. I actually probably should have left John a long time ago, but I wasn't sure I could support myself and Greg on the limited income I could have earned on my own."

Cuddy looked questioningly at Blythe.

"Greg is not John's biological son. John and I married when Greg was little. John always said he loved me and that he loved Greg too, but honestly what I think John really wanted was a son that he could mold into his own likeness. He wanted Greg to think and behave like a Marine. Greg isn't like that, and never was, thank goodness. I think John is disappointed in Greg. I think he thinks he loves Greg, but I also think he thinks Greg is a disappointment and he doesn't know how to deal with disappointment."

"Greg is NOT a disappointment to me. I think John actually needs to go back to Lexington and he and I will deal with our issues down the road. Greg needs everyone who is here now to be on his side, and I need to leave it at that."

Cuddy wanted to know more details, but Blythe was right. John needed to be out of the picture right now. Lisa knew other victims of child abuse. Knowing House's determination to hide from (or deflect) his own personal problems rather than face them, she knew that he'd probably never be able to move beyond his past if he didn't face it head on, but he wasn't in any condition to do that right now.


	19. Third man salute

Chapter 19

**A/N I'm not guaranteeing any of the information I got on Hepatitis E to be accurate. I did research it on Wikipedia and several other online sources, however.**

5 PM Day 3

Blythe and Wilson were with House. House was awake. Wilson and House were engaged in a little tête-à-tête on the whiteboard, and Blythe was silently amused at the banter going on between the two friends. Even with light dressings on his burned hands, House didn't seem to be having too much trouble writing.

"Heard you nailed Thirteen today." Wilson wrote.

"She wanted it." House wrote.

Wilson: "Heard you nailed the nurse too."

House: "Bitch deserved it."

Wilson: "Well, takes one to know one."

Wilson: "What, no comeback?" and a smile.

House: "Saving it for later. Tired."

Greg was actually looking a little stronger, Blythe thought. He was still coughing but not as frequently and he wasn't as panicked when he did cough. The breathing treatments were working, and so were the antibiotics.

Dr. Miller walked in to assess House one more time before leaving for the evening. This would be the first time he'd left the ICU for any significant period of time since House was admitted almost four days ago, and another concern was becoming obvious. They were going to have to start feeding him, breathing tube or no breathing tube.

Miller grabbed the board with a smile and erased the previous comments. He knew about the white board-throwing incident earlier, but everybody gets frustrated especially when they have such trouble communicating, and he knew it was no big deal.

Miller wrote "Stop nailing my nurses."

House: "Heart?"

Miller: "Here it is in a nutshell."

"Heart stopped. You shoved a knife into an electrical outlet."

"Your fellow did CPR and so did code team."

"CPR for a long time, and defib multiple times.

Miller stopped to let House absorb this.

House: "How long?"

Miller: "Long time. Ext. pacer when u didn't respond."

House: "Was I dead?"

Miller: "Yes"

House: "What meds?"

Miller: "Atropine, epinephrine, later dopamine and norepi for BP."

Miller erased the white board and the conversation continued.

House: "I'm deaf"

Miller: "Yeah, we know. Not sure why. IPod may be cause."

House: "Oh shit"

Miller: "Aud. guy says maybe fixable."

House: "What else?"

Miller: "Big liver. Hepatomegaly. Hepatitis"

House: "OMG – the blood transfusion…"

Miller: "Not likely. It's Hep E."

Miller erased the white board and the conversation continued.

Miller: "You up for more?"

House: "No but do it"

Miller: "U prob got it from the rat"

Miller: "Isn't Kutner one of your fellows?"

House: "For now"

Miller: "U owe him big time. He got the dx first."

House, the infectious disease specialist, knew that Hepatitis E was often spread from animal to human via contact with the animal's feces. House thought of all the times he'd cleaned Steve McQueen's cage out without washing his hands afterward. Miller knew that a new variation of the hepatitis E virus had recently been found in rats and was called "rat Hepatitis E virus".

Miller wrote: "Hep E can cause fulminant liver failure occas"

House just stared at him. _All these years I've been eating Vicodin like candy and I get liver failure from a rat I trapped at Stacy's?? Talk about irony._

Miller: "U have liver failure"

Miller: "It's why the meds take so long to work on u"

House: "Fixable"

Miller: "Fixes itself. Just treat the symptoms. Hep E usually fixes itself."

Miller: "Hep E resolves, liver failure resolves."

Miller: "We also need to debride the burns on your hands."

This time, House erased the board. He'd had enough. He needed to go back to sleep.

Miller: "Heard enough?"

House: "yeah for now"

Miller: "We need to debride your hands tomorrow."

Miller: "And you need nutrition."

House hesitated, because he knew what that would mean. Feeding tube. Yuck.

House: "Fine. bye"

Wilson and Blythe were transfixed. Here was House, deaf, burned, recovering from a bad heart attack and pneumonia, still on a respirator, and overall still pretty critically ill, holding up his end of a very analytical clinical discussion.

Miller wrote: "C U L8tr"

House cracked a hint of a smile, gave him the third man salute and closed his eyes.


	20. Dr Mekhi

Chapter 20

**A/N – Thank you to Visitkarte who pointed out my error about how his ears should be cleaned out. I corrected Chapter 20 as a result. I'm a nurse but I have very little ENT experience, so I appreciate the help. **

**I named the ENT physician Dr. Mekhi because I like Mekhi Phifer. I always thought he'd be an interesting addition to the cast of regulars on the show. BTW there was a documented case of electrocution where an IPod conducted electricity. From macosrumors dot com, and the New England Journal of Medicine:**

"**Many local USA TV stations' 5/6′o'clock news shows just reported a statistically unlikely incident involving an iPod, a jogger, and a bolt of lightning. This story was originally reported in the New England Journal of Medicine.**

**In an almost Twilight-Zone like episode, a man jogging in a thunderstorm in Vancouver, BC was struck indirectly by a bolt of lightning that bounced off a nearby tree.**

**This type of indirect lightning exposure, called a "side flash," would typically 'flash over' the skin of the entire body…but in this case, the iPod and headphones the man was wearing acted as a conductor.**

**The electricity travelled up the headset wires and into the man's ears, leaving a burn path of first and second degree burns all the way up his chest, rupturing his eardrums and rendering him with a 50% hearing loss (after recovery!) and causing his facial muscles to contract so hard from the shock that his jawbone was broken"**

7 PM, Day 3, the waiting room.

Ron Jenkins, audiologist, and Dr. Mekhi (the ENT specialist) met with Cuddy, Wilson, Chase, Cameron, Thirteen and Foreman in the waiting room.

Blythe was spending a few more moments with House before she had to go back to the hotel room and deal with John.

Dr. Mekhi looked at the white board in the waiting room and was very impressed.

"I wanted to meet briefly with you all before I go in to see Dr. House. He might not like what I have to do, but Ron and I spoke earlier. Ron's right. If this is a blast injury, it would have been nice if I'd been called in earlier, but I understand there were much more important issues that had to be fixed first."

"Assuming it's a blast injury, Dr. House isn't going to like the exam because it'll probably hurt like hell for a few minutes. A blast injury is one where a sudden loud noise or, in this case, an electrical jolt, basically pops a hole in the eardrum. IPods can conduct electricity and there was a documented case where a man, who was wearing an IPod with the ear buds in his ears, was struck by lightning. The IPod conducted electricity and he had injuries very similar to Dr. House's. The man suffered a permanent 50% hearing loss as a result of his ruptured eardrums. If Dr. House has ruptured ear drums, the sooner we can repair them, the more likely it is we can mitigate his hearing loss."

Ron said "Obviously we don't need to conduct a standard hearing test, as we know he's unable to hear external noises. I do need to know if he has tinnitus, though. Normally a blast injury like his causes complete deafness – no ringing (tinnitus). I can do my assessment while Dr. Mekhi is doing his exam, though. But we need to do it tonight. Now that Dr. House is off the dopamine and norepinephrine, and is more stable, it's really a good time to do this. It doesn't take long, and we can plan the repair for early tomorrow morning if that's what he has."

Wilson went to get Blythe. "Blythe, you need to hear this. There might be great news about his hearing. I know it's pretty far down on the totem pole of concerns right now, but we've gotten the bigger issues with his brain, heart, lungs, and liver diagnosed now, so it's time to deal with the ears. I like what these guys are saying."

Blythe cried, partly due to anticipation of good news and partly due to exhaustion. When they got to the waiting room, Wilson introduced Blythe to Ron and Dr. Mekhi. Dr. Mekhi said "Mrs. House, we'll need you in the room with him when we do the ear exam. I'm actually going to do it in a few minutes. Just one person, though. I'd rather it be you. It may not hurt him at all or it may be very painful. If it is painful, though, it'll only be for a few moments. I'll need him to hold still, and if you can keep his attention focused on you, that'll hopefully give him a pleasant, relaxing distraction long enough for me to finish what I have to do. Don't worry, I won't keep anything from him. I understand he's able to read and write just fine, so we'll use his little white board to discuss it with him. Basically I'm going to look in both ears with an otoscope" (he showed her his otoscope) "and clean his ears out. That's what may hurt. It might also make him dizzy or nauseated. Both of these are temporary and will stop when I am finished cleaning his ears. I need to get any wax or other discharge out so I can have a clear view of his ear drums. After I'm done cleaning his ears, he shouldn't feel any pain, nausea or dizziness. Once his ears are clean, I'm going to look at his ear drums. If they're ruptured, I'll see it. We can fix ruptured ear drums surgically. If they're not ruptured, I'm going to use a tuning fork and look to see if his ear drums react to it. He's seen a tuning fork before and so have you, if you've ever watched a piano tuner tune a piano. Piano tuners use tuning forks. Using a tuning fork during an ear examination doesn't hurt."

The mood in the waiting room, which was already becoming more upbeat as the hours passed, suddenly became even more hopeful. Everyone knew, though, that when House was involved, things very rarely went according to plan. When they did go according to plan, it was usually some sort of demented House-ian plan to begin with. Everyone would wait with baited breath until after the ear examination was complete.

7:30 PM, Day 3

House's cubicle

Dr. Mekhi, Ron Jenkins, Blythe House and Brenda (House's ever attendant evening shift nurse) were assembling in his room for the ear exam. House was awake. His eyes were open and focused intently on Dr. Mekhi.

Dr. Mekhi picked up House's white board.

Mekhi wrote: "Dr House, I'm Dr. Mekhi, ear nose and throat. Miller called me in on consult."

Mekhi: "Can you hear anything?"

House wrote: "no"

Mekhi: "Tinnitus? Ringing? Anything?"

House: "idiot I know what tinnitus is and no"

Mekhi ignored the comment and wrote: "You prob have a blast injury. Rupt eardrums."

Mekhi: "Fixable. Have to clean out your ears first"

House wrote "How?"

Mekhi: "How to fix, or how did it happen?"

House wrote: "HOW DID IT HAPPEN" and his expression was clear. _This is so frustrating. I know how to fix ruptured eardrums! Do they think I'm an idiot? I need to know how it happened!!_

Mekhi: "Gotta look first and see what's wrong."

House wrote "do it"

And they got down to business.

Blythe took a deep breath, and erased everything on the white board.

She looked straight at him and wrote "Keep your head still and your eyes on me. He's going to clean your ears out."

Blythe: "He said it might hurt or make you dizzy or sick."

House scrunched his eyes closed. He knew all of that. He was anxious enough as it was.

Brenda moved over closer to the bed and held a little pan close enough that it would be ready if he needed it.

Blythe's hands were on either side of House's jaw gently holding his head still. Blythe couldn't communicate with him as long as his eyes were scrunched shut, so she gently rubbed his cheek to try to get him to relax and open his eyes. Dr. Mekhi started cleaning his ears out. House was looking straight at Blythe's face.

Blythe enunciated, hoping he would be able to read her lips since her hands were otherwise occupied holding his head still: "Honey, relax. He's cleaning the right ear."

Then a murmur from Dr. Mekhi: "Bingo, bango, boingo! Here it is. Right ear drum is ruptured. Moving over to the left now."

House saw Blythe react to whatever Dr. Mekhi said. House didn't dare move his head, and was staring so hard at Blythe trying to guess what she reacted to, that the intensity of his stare scared Blythe for a minute. He looked like he was about to jump out of his skin with apprehension, but he held perfectly still with his eyes wide open. Again, when Dr. Mekhi started cleaning his left ear, House kept up his intent staring at Blythe trying to gauge her reaction to whatever Dr. Mekhi might say about his left ear.

Then, from Dr. Mekhi: "Ditto on the left. It's ruptured too. Both ears are also infected. This is fixable. Let's get him cleaned up and we'll talk here. Mrs. House, you can let go of his head. I'll talk to him in a sec."

Brenda moved in to make House comfortable.

Dr. Mekhi moved over to where House could see his face.

Dr. Mekhi wrote on the white board: "Both drums ruptured. Both ears infected. This is fixable. We'll schedule an OR for tomorrow and patch those ear drums."

"You'll need to stay on the IV antibiotics awhile"

"The same ones you're getting for the pneumonia should help with the ear infection"

"and you'll need antibiotic ear drops for several weeks too."

Mekhi wrote: "Miller wants to debride your hands tomorrow while you're out, before we do the ears. I don't see a problem with that, do you?"

House shook his head _no_.

House relaxed so much that it looked like he sunk about two inches into the mattress. Every tense muscle melted, and he finally looked _happy_.

Ron wrote: "We'll do a hearing test in a week or so after the repair. C U bright and early tomorrow."


	21. Sayonara, John!

Chapter 21 

**In this chapter, I strayed quite a bit from canon with the bit about Blythe being with House after his infarction surgery. The show's writers have never made it clear whether or not his parents were there with him during the surgery and its aftermath, and I think they should have. It was important to my story to set some kind of precedent regarding that, so I did…**

In the waiting room, it was turning out to be a long night for all of House's peeps. As cynical as Foreman was, even he stayed with everyone else and managed to be pleasant and helpful. Foreman actually turned into something of a help for everyone. With his neurology background, Foreman had had some experience with deafness during his neurology fellowship, and he'd heard the terms "blast injury" and "acute acoustic trauma" before. He'd never heard of an IPod contributing to that kind of injury, but he was familiar with the surgical procedure necessary to fix it. He was aware that, while the chances of full recovery of hearing are better when ruptured ear drums are fixed early, the longer the delay in repairing the rupture, the higher the risk of permanent hearing loss was.

9 PM, Day 3

Blythe called John to pick her up from the hospital. They needed to talk, and they needed to do it outside of the hospital. Blythe was already well armed for what she was about to say.

The drive back to the hotel was mercifully short and completely silent. Blythe didn't even look at John, nor did he look at her. John unlocked the hotel room door. Blythe spat out "So, I guess you don't love him at all. Just shut up and let me talk. You lied to me. You've been lying to me all along. All those years ago, before we married, you told me you loved him. You acted like you wanted to be his best buddy. But when it came time to be a real dad, to teach him how to be a man, all you wanted was a mini you. You wanted a mini marine. You couldn't stand telling an eight year old boy to do something and then having him ask you why. John, he wasn't making you look stupid! He was brilliant! He was inquisitive! He asked EVERYONE questions!" John just stared at her in stunned silence. He opened his mouth as if to say something, and Blythe screamed,

"No, let me talk!! Oh Lord, I remember a lot. For example, I remember you asking him to wash the car. He asked you why. The car wasn't dirty. He didn't know why you wanted him to wash it. He wasn't being disrespectful. He wasn't refusing to do what you asked. He just politely asked you why. You threw him in a bathtub full of ice. Oh, and don't get me started about when he turned 14 and joined the ecology club in his freshman year of high school. I can remember the year exactly. It was 1973. He had a project due on the impact of the Nixon administration's decision to re-supply the Israeli army. His project was impressive. I even remember the title: "Nixon and the Oil Embargo." You saw the paper, made him rip it up before he could turn it in, and that evening I took him to the emergency room because his arm was broken. John, it was a project for school! It had nothing to do with you or your political slant. Greg probably had no idea you were a Nixon supporter. You could have just said you were proud of the research he did for it. You broke his arm after you made him tear the paper up. Greg was too scared of you to tell the doctor what really happened, and like an idiot, I backed up his lie. I should have taken Greg and left right then and there. I didn't tell the doctor what really happened because the doc was one of your precious "Corps Buddies". I was too afraid of what we would come home to. You drove him to this, John. Yes, you. He knows he's been a disappointment to you all his life." John started trying to explain everything away. Blythe retorted "No, you've said enough. It's my turn. Like an idiot, I enabled you. You have no idea how many times I took him to the doctor for routine school physicals and had them ask me where all his bruises and healed fractures came from. Even though you knew most of these marine corps docs, I did tell a few of them what actually happened. I don't know if they just didn't believe me or if they were afraid to cross you or whatever. Most of the time I lied because I was afraid of what you would do if you found out I told someone who knew you that you were beating your son up.

Now Greg is a world renowned diagnostician but he's lonely. Nothing he does is ever good enough for you. Shut up. You're the reason he doesn't trust most people.

Remember when Stacy called us after he had the infarction? Remember what you said? My son was on his deathbed, and you blamed him for being, as I recall you said, "Too stupid to save his own ass." You wanted all the control. After I got to the hospital, alone by the way, I found out that you told Dr. Cuddy, behind Stacy's back, behind my back, and certainly behind Greg's back, to amputate. Never mind anything that Greg said. You wouldn't get on a plane to go see him, and you wanted them to chop his leg off. You said you wanted them to take his leg because you were worried for his life. That's bull. If you were that worried you'd have gotten on a plane with me and been with him. You gave me a reason why you couldn't fly up there with me but I'll bet that was a lie.

I think you wanted them to take his leg because you wanted to prove to Greg that you were right and he was wrong. And then, even after all that and the prolonged physical rehab he suffered through just to be able to walk; he regained enough function to be able to ride a motorcycle. He was so proud of that motorcycle. Your reaction was to criticize him because he had to use a handicapped spot. You said 'Last I remember, you still had two legs.' You had to rub it in one more time. He knew that you told Cuddy to amputate. When Greg picked up his cane and said "actually, I have three", I thought he was going to beat you with it. I'd have cheered him on. You're just sick, and obviously, so was I for sticking with you all that time. All these years, I stuck with you because, you know, we never aired our dirty laundry. We had to pretend like everything was "normal".

Well, no longer. You're going home now, back to Lexington. I'm calling a cab for you and you're going back to the airport. It's over. Don't call me. When I'm able to leave Greg long enough to start the divorce proceedings, you'll hear from my lawyer. Sayonara."


	22. Ears

Chapter 22 

**A/N this chapter is long. The second half of it goes into the details of burn wound care. If you are the least bit squeamish, you might want to skip the last half of this chapter.**

6 AM, Day 4

House had had a completely quiet, uneventful night. Anne was still with him during the night and so was Wilson. Everyone else had gone to their respective homes for what they hoped would be a good night's rest. This would be a big day and they'd all need to be well rested. House slept, for the most part. The coughing had died down quite a bit and he was breathing more comfortably. Anne thought _maybe we can start weaning him off the respirator after his surgery._

During the night, Anne shaved his face again. Chase needn't have worried about House's reaction to being clean-shaven. House was actually glad Anne did it. Not only was it much less painful when they changed the tape around his breathing tube, it was necessary to prepare him for his ear surgery.

An OR tech appeared in his cubicle, unannounced, with a stretcher to take him to the preop holding area. The tech startled a still-resting Wilson and House by just walking in unannounced and trying to move House to the stretcher. Wilson looked about ready to slap the guy and Anne said "No, we're taking him in his bed and please read the note taped to his bed. Tell him what you're doing before you do it. Use the white board." Anne gently touched his right foot and House focused his attention on her.

They had to cut back on the morphine and mild sedation that House had been receiving because of his liver failure. They found that it was taking so long for his liver to metabolize some medications that they could get by with lower doses of things, and still keep him reasonably comfortable and relaxed. House was anxious for this morning's procedure to begin, and was more than ready to get things underway. He was none too happy about being startled out of a brief but restful nap, however.

Anne wrote "hey sleepy head. They're here for you."

The OR tech wrote "Morning. I'm here to take you to the OR to get your ears fixed."

House took one look at the stretcher that the OR tech brought with him, and wrote "Not in that."

Anne wrote "I know; we're going in your bed. You won't be awake when they move you from this bed to the OR table. Don't worry."

Anne called respiratory therapy for assistance with House's breathing tube and ventilator while they were in transit to the operating room.

Anne gave House a little more morphine to keep him relaxed during the trip to the OR. The respiratory therapist disconnected the respirator from his breathing tube, hooked him up to an Ambu bag and supplemental oxygen, and began squeezing the Ambu bag to give him breaths on the way to the OR. Anne got House's IVs ready for the move (he was off the dopamine and norepinephrine, and just on morphine and saline), and together, the four of them pushed House's bed out through the doors of his cubicle, out of the ICU and over to the preop holding area of the operating room.

Dr. Mekhi met them in the preop holding area, dressed in his scrubs, sterile head cover and shoe covers. In the process of moving his bed, his white board had inadvertently been left back in his room. Wilson ran back to get it.

Wilson returned, slightly out of breath, with House's white board. House was really sleepy and could barely keep his eyes open, but Anne kept tickling his right foot to keep him awake while Dr. Mekhi was talking to him.

Dr. Mekhi wrote "You already got some Versed. Enjoy the buzz but stay awake a minute."

Mekhi: "We'll do the right ear first. We need to test the repair first, then we'll do the left."

Mekhi: "It shouldn't take too long. You'll have packing in your ears when you wake up."

Mekhi smiled and wrote "don't take it out. We'll see you in recovery. Any ?"

House shook his head _no_ and dropped off to sleep.

7 AM Day 4

Blythe arrived in the "House hood" (as the waiting room had recently been renamed) and so had Cuddy, Chase, Cameron, Foreman, Thirteen, Taub and Kutner. The House hood was clean and restocked with all the goodies everyone wanted. Chase noted, with a smile, that she even had lox and bagels waiting for anyone who wanted them. Wilson was in the OR observation deck. Cuddy knew the surgery wasn't expected to take long, and felt like her services would be best utilized in House hood, so she stayed there with everyone else.

"Do you think he'll be able to hear normally?" Blythe asked. Cuddy said "We won't know for awhile. He should be able to at least hear something when he wakes up, but his ears will be full of cotton packing for awhile plus he has the ear infection. I don't think they're going to test his hearing formally until the packing can be removed and they will probably wait until the ear infection has cleared up too. I am sure Dr. Mekhi will update Wilson when it's over with, and Wilson will update all of us."

Wilson, in the OR observation deck, found himself watching what turned out to be a boring, uncomplicated, relatively quick surgery. As promised, they anesthetized House before moving him from the bed to the OR table. While he was out for the ear surgery, Dr. Miller came in, debrided the burn wounds on his hands, applied cadaver skin to cover the debrided areas and applied dressings. The ear surgery itself went fine and House was back in his bed, still completely out of it, after about two hours. Wilson walked with Dr. Mekhi, the anesthesiologist, and the recovery room nurse as they pushed House in his bed back to the recovery room.

Dr. Mekhi said "After we knocked him out, Dr. Miller did an initial debridement on his hands. Then we started on the ears. The ear repairs went fine. We tested the ear drums and they reacted normally, but we are not going to test his hearing formally until, probably, a few days from now. It's going to take a few days for the swelling to go down, and I anticipate it'll be a few days before we can take the packing out. He should have some hearing when he wakes up but I don't know if he'll be able to hear voices or if it'll just be tinnitus. Some people hear nothing but tinnitus until the swelling goes down and we can take the packing out. We'll have to wait until he wakes up. He's going to be in recovery until he's more awake, and with his liver failure that might be awhile. If you want to stay with him you can. It's up to you. They allow one person to stay with the patient while in recovery, and you know the drill. You have to get out if they ask you to."

Wilson said "I'll stay with him."

Wilson sat next to House's bed in recovery and looked at the recumbent form. It looked like House had big white puffy ear muffs on underneath white dressings that completely covered the top, back and sides of his head. His eyes, nose, mouth and the breathing tube were of course visible, but everything else on his head was covered in white dressings. His hands looked like giant white clubs. The light dressings on his hands that House had become accustomed to were replaced by huge bulky dressings. Wilson didn't see how House was going to be able to write with his hands wrapped up like this.

An hour went by, and House was still out like a light. This wasn't unusual. Dr. Mekhi came by to check the dressings and, of course, House's recovery room nurse pretty much never left his bedside. Wilson thought _how sad is it that House has to be so familiar with the patient side of the bed._

Another hour went by. Still, not a peep from House, but he did stir a little when the recovery room nurse wiggled his right big toe gently. The recovery room staff had been well prepared and knew not to move his other extremities if they didn't have to, because of the burns. Wilson knew that with the liver situation, the anesthesia would hang on longer than normal and he was actually a little glad that House would have this extra time to sleep.

By the end of the third hour, House was stirring awake a little bit on his own. He was too sleepy to breathe on his own but still he was starting to awaken a bit. His eyes cracked open. He thought he saw Wilson, and went back to sleep.

By the end of the fourth hour, House was drowsy but awake, and looking around. Wilson said "Hey there! Can you hear me?"

House instinctively reached up to pull the packing out of his ears; not out of spite, but out of confusion. Instead of actually accomplishing anything, though, he just banged himself in the forehead with what looked like a big, soft, white club.

He was still pretty soaked full of anesthesia and had no idea that the surgery was over with. Wilson held his hands down gently, looked right into House's face and said "Can you hear me?" Mekhi had walked up to House's bedside and was quietly watching the impromptu hearing test taking place before him.

House had to focus very intently on what Wilson was saying. Mekhi waited anxiously for a nod or shake of House's head.

Wilson's voice sounded tiny and soft, like a little boy whispering from across a room full of fans blowing at high speed. Wilson was talking. House could barely hear a voice. House motioned for his white board. Wilson wrote "You have dressings on your hands. You might not be able to write."

Wilson put the marker in his right hand. House clumsily scribbled "What?"

Wilson said in a normal tone of voice (and wrote at the same time) "Can you hear me?"

House clumsily scribbled "little not really" and a tear rolled down his cheek. He remembered that he'd had the surgery, and was absolutely crestfallen that he was still, for the most part, deaf.

Wilson picked up on House's frustration and wrote "Mekhi's here."

Dr. Mekhi stepped into House's field of vision. He said in a normal tone of voice (and wrote) "Everything went fine."

Mekhi said and wrote: "You have some hearing now. You didn't this morning."

House knew what he wanted to write, but the bulky dressings on his hands prevented him from writing any more than just one or two word phrases. Even those looked like the messy scribbling of a pre-schooler learning to write letters for the first time.

He settled for just looking at Mekhi.

Wilson said and wrote: "Give it time. You'll be fine. You always are."

House: "Sleep" and gave in to the effects of the anesthesia still saturating his body.

1:30 PM, Day 4

House had just been returned to Cubicle 1 in the ICU. Dr. Miller and Dr. Mekhi were at his bedside along with his day shift nurse. Until he'd been settled back in the ICU, they needed everyone else to stay out in House hood. All three of them were examining the things they needed to examine. House was drowsy and completely unable to follow any conversations; the noise he heard sounded like electric fans blowing constantly. Whenever anyone spoke, it sounded like they were speaking into a fan. Voices were soft and indistinguishable, like unintelligible whispering. Words were indistinguishable. House couldn't even follow one person's voice, let alone multiple people talking at the same time. He expected pain in his ears after surgery, but there was no pain. He sure didn't expect this. Just when Miller, Mekhi and Lynne (his nurse) needed him to keep his eyes open so they could communicate with him, all he wanted to do was shut them and tune out the world again. For the time being, they wouldn't let him alone. If only he could talk, he'd level them with some massive insult. He had to settle for clamping his eyes shut.

Meanwhile, out in House hood…

The natives were restless. Wilson had told them about the uneventful surgery and House's initial response after he woke up in the recovery room. They knew Mekhi, Miller and Lynne were with House now and that they needed to stay out in House hood until those three were done with their necessary tasks.

Mekhi came out and talked to them. "He can hear a little and things are going just as we expected. Voices sound 'tiny and soft', as he explained, and he can't distinguish words. He probably can't distinguish one person's voice apart from another's. He's also still pretty out of it, as was expected. I wouldn't expect him to be fully awake for at least another day or so. I know you all were used to going in there two at a time. He was already easily frustrated even before the surgery and it's only going to get worse for the time being, because now he can hear a little but not well enough to distinguish voices or words. He's probably much more frustrated than he expected he would be. I doubt that he was expecting that. I'm asking you to go in one at a time. I'm also asking you to speak and write at the same time. Speak in a normal tone of voice. Yelling won't help. Don't be surprised if he shuts you out; don't take it personally, and if you think he wants you to leave, I'd think twice before you do. He needs time to process this and it helps to just have someone there."

Miller had accompanied Mekhi out to the waiting room.

Miller said "I debrided his hands this morning before the ear repairs. He has bulkier dressings on his hands now, which means he's not going to be able to write as legibly as he could yesterday. This might not be a big deal to us but it will be to him. All we can do is be patient while he tries to write. And we have other issues I need to talk with you all about too."


	23. Feeding

Chapter 23

**A/N – just some filler, a break from the angst, before the next few chapters get really heavy again.**

2 PM, Day 4

Miller said "Gotta focus on nutrition and the burns more, now that head, heart, lungs, liver and ears are diagnosed. I actually wasn't planning on dealing with the deafness this soon because I honestly thought that would either resolve by itself or else the damage would be permanent. When Mekhi found the punctured ear drums, suddenly we were dealing with something that was fixable but wouldn't resolve on its own, and the repairs became urgent. But that's done now."

Miller said "Let's look at your white board again. Wilson, can I drive?" Wilson cracked a smile and tossed the black marker to him. Miller wrote the word INFECTION next to the word "Burns" that they had already written, and he wrote the word NUTRITION next to the "Hepatitis" and "Liver failure" that they had already written on the board.

Miller also added the word PSYCH to the board.

Everything related to head and heart was erased.

Miller said "Mrs. House, maybe now might be a good time for you to go in with Greg. You can have all the time you want, alone, with him. He needs you more than anyone else right now. I'll talk with you whenever you're ready. Is that Ok?"

Blythe was chomping at the bit for her chance to be helpful to her son. She jumped up, grabbed her coffee and disappeared into the ICU.

Miller said "As I mentioned, I debrided the burns on his hands today. The burns on his arms, chest, and left leg are flash burns, basically just bad sunburns, and don't need debriding. Infection is always a prime concern in burn patients because their immune system is already under stress trying to heal the burns. He already has an ear infection and pneumonia. It won't take much for the either of those to spread systemically, even with four days' worth of antibiotics on board. The dead skin had to come off of his hands today. The debrided areas are covered with cadaver skin. As you know, cadaver skin will fall off. It isn't permanent. It's just meant to cover the debrided area until either his own skin grows back or we do a more permanent living skin transplant."

"Burn wound care is quite painful and quite intensive. Have any of you had any experience with burn care?"

Everyone shook their heads _no_.

Miller said "Until now, we have not had to cover the burns on his arms, chest or left leg because the skin isn't broken – those are just basically bad sunburns. The hands are covered in mixed second and third degree burns. Because he can spread infection by scratching or picking at other areas of his body, we're going to start covering his arms, chest and left leg with dressings too – to keep them protected. If he scratches them, or picks at something or accidentally pulls out an IV, they can easily get infected. Up until now he's been restrained at times and fairly well sedated except for those coughing episodes and of course the Scott Volakis disaster. And during those times, we gave him extra sedation. We didn't have to worry so much about him moving around and scratching or picking at his body. But as his hepatitis resolves, the liver failure should resolve too, and we'll probably see him wake up a whole lot more. That means more movement, and more risk of additional skin damage and more risk of infection."

"Wound care for burns is intensive. The nurses will give him extra pain medication or sedation if it's needed, and it probably will be. Then all dressings and clothing are removed but they can leave him in shorts or a towel to cover the family jewels. They'll clean everything from top to bottom with a sterile irrigation solution. We'll probably use silver sulfadiazine cream and dry dressings to cover. He's gonna look like a mummy. The only parts not covered with dressings will be his face and his right leg. He still has a urinary catheter in and unfortunately we'll have to leave that in so we don't risk his left leg getting wet when he has to pee. It's a risk we have to take. It makes him more likely to get a bladder infection, but the risk of contaminating the burn on his left leg with urine is even greater. We have to leave the catheter in."

Everyone in the room was expecting this, but it still was hard for them to hear.

"The second issue we have to deal with today is nutrition. He can't eat, obviously. He hasn't had anything but plain IV fluid with no calories in it for four days now. Burn patients always need a lot of plain IV fluid because they lose a lot of fluid through the burns. Now we have to give him nutrition. Lots of protein and calories, among other things. He may have the breathing tube in for awhile, but even if we're able to wean him off the ventilator soon – and yes, we are going to try that soon – he's not going to be able to eat all the protein and calories he's going to need to heal from the burns. Regardless of their pre-burn weight, burn patients always need a lot more protein, calories and vitamins because they expend a lot of energy just trying to heal from burns. Heavy patients can sometimes tolerate a few days without additional nutrition Ok, but House is slender to begin with. So we have two options. He needs around 3000 calories or so a day. We either put another IV in him so we can give him special IV nutrition for burn patients, or we put in a feeding tube. They make liquid feeding solution specifically for burn patients that has a ton of protein and calories in it. He already agreed to a feeding tube, but it's my guess that he's not going to want to LEAVE it in. I don't want to put in another IV line for IV nutrition if I don't absolutely have to, because those get infected too easily. His gut needs food in it. I'm putting in a feeding tube today after I talk to his mom. He's probably not going to like the procedure to insert it, but fortunately that's usually quick. And the issue with nutrition for him is that the liver failure is going to complicate things a bit. We have to find a formula that has enough nutrients to meet his needs, but not so much that it over-taxes a liver in distress. I've put in an order for a dietary consult. The dietician should be in later."

The folks in House hood were a little stunned. They knew these things were going to have to happen, but did they need to happen the same day he'd had surgery on his ears?? Apparently, yes, but every soul in that room knew that House wouldn't see it that way.

Miller said "One more thing we need to start talking about. It certainly looks like he tried to kill himself. From reviewing his old medical records, I can see that he never got the kind of intensive post traumatic stress disorder counseling after the infarction surgery that I normally order for patients with a new disability. It was recommended, but he only went to one session. This electrocution is considered a suicide attempt, and as such, I'm getting psych involved now. They will come down and meet with him but won't conduct much in the way of therapy until he can communicate better. But yes, even though I have no doubt he'll resist it, I'm getting psych involved."

2 PM, Day 4 – in House's cubicle

Blythe was alone with her son. Blythe still really hadn't had time to process any of this, either. As he slept under the continued influence of anesthesia, she thought:

_He looks so bad. Now he's all wrapped up in dressings. It seems odd that the only part that isn't wrapped up is his bad leg. I don't see how he can even write with his hands all wrapped up looking like clubs. _

She watched the even rising and falling of his chest, in time with the respirator. The sound of the respirator was like white noise. She was afraid to touch anything, including his right toes. She didn't want to wake him up or hurt him.

Lynne walked in and comforted Blythe. Lynne pulled Blythe just outside of the sliding glass doors and said "Mrs. House, I know all of this is overwhelming. It's overwhelming for him too. You both need time to accept and deal with what's happening. Four days isn't enough. Let me give you a brief update before Dr. Miller comes in. Dr. Mekhi said that the ear surgery went fine. Your son can hear, just a little. We don't think he can distinguish voices or words yet. Dr. Miller debrided his hands this morning after they anesthetized him for the ear surgery. That's why his hands are covered in dressings. The other burns aren't that bad but they need to be covered in dressings too, now, because as he wakes up he's going to move more. The other burns need protecting in order to avoid any further infection. He can still write, but it's clumsy and he'll probably get even more frustrated than he already is. We are all going to have to be a lot more patient with him than we already are. He'll get through this. We just have to be patient."

Dr. Miller and Cameron came in to House's cubicle. Dr. Miller escorted Blythe out of House's room while Cameron stayed with him.

One eye lazily opened. Cameron wrote and said "Hey there". House looked at her dopily and closed his eye.

Dr. Miller said "Mrs. House, the burn debridement and the ear repairs went fine this morning. He's going to be a bit out of it for the next day or two while the anesthesia wears off. I need to talk to you about two things. These are very typical of burn patients, so nothing extra special here."

"The first is burn wound care. You've noticed that he has a lot more dressings than before. We have to keep the hands dressed. The other burns aren't that severe but they need to be kept covered for now to prevent further infection. Burn care is painful, and as he wakes up and his liver recovers more, we're going to need to go up on his morphine. We expect that. It's normal for burn care. I just want to be sure we keep him as pain free as possible, and that you're ready for it."

"The second issue is nutrition. We have to feed him. Today. Burn patients always need more nutrients, particularly protein and calories. Typically they need at least two to three thousand calories a day. Based on the fact that Greg is already skinny to begin with, he's going to need at least three thousand calories a day plus other things. Even when he's able to eat, he won't be able to eat enough to meet his needs. We have two choices. We can either put in another special IV to give him IV nutrition meant for burn patients, or we can put in a feeding tube. I know he already agreed to a feeding tube but I just want to be sure you're aware of what's going on too, since he might not be too crazy about the procedure to put the tube in. I would prefer not to put in another IV for parenteral nutrition because it will present too much of a risk of infection. We need to put in a feeding tube and start giving him what we call enteral nutrition. It's just liquid formula."

"A feeding tube doesn't have to be that big of a deal. We use them all the time. I'd rather that it be put in now, while he's still pretty much out of it. We can put a thin, flexible feeding tube in through his nose that goes down just past his stomach. It hurts just a little going in but they'll numb up his nose and throat. Once it's in it doesn't hurt. I'll ask Brenda to do it this evening. We just have to get an x ray after it's in, and they do the x ray here at his bedside. One of my fellows will look at the x ray and if the tube is in the right position, we'll start the tube feeding tonight. As soon as his burns show signs of healing and he's able to eat an adequate diet on his own, we'll take it out."

Blythe thought about that. _Dr. Miller is right. He does need this, and nobody wants to fight him on this either._ "If you're asking me to sign the consent, Ok."


	24. The Mess

Chapter 24

**A/N – Please, if anyone works for Apple, don't sue me! This chapter contains more references to ITunes and IPods. I do own an IPod and a copy of ITunes, but I don't work for Apple, don't own any Apple stock, and really don't want them breathing down my back. This is a short chapter. Little angst in this one, heavy duty in next chapter.**

4 PM, Day 4

House hood

Wilson went back to House's office. Earlier, he intended to pick up a few things that House would need that they hadn't gotten earlier. One of them was his PSP but Kutner had gotten that for him earlier, and Scott Volakis was responsible for its subsequent demise. His IPod had been zapped in the electrocution. Wilson spotted House's expensive turntable. There might not be enough room in House's cubicle for the turntable, but Wilson had an idea. Since House had an IPod, the songs on the IPod would also be on one of House's computers. Wilson had an IPod. He'd gladly put House's music on his IPod. He just had to find the computer that had House's ITunes library on it.

He checked House's office computer and bingo, there it was. Wilson set about the task of syncing his IPod to House's ITunes library.

While he was on House's computer, Wilson poked around a little in House's "My Documents" folder and his curiosity was piqued when he found a file named "Gau Meng". He copied the file onto a thumb drive and left House's office with his IPod, the thumb drive, and intense curiosity about what the file contained because it was the only file on House's computer written in Chinese.

4 PM, Day 4

House's cubicle

House was asleep, but every once in awhile he'd jerk awake. When he was awake, he kept forgetting that his hands and arms were bandaged. He'd clumsily pick up an arm to scratch his face or something, only to be met with a soft white club falling down on his forehead or on his stomach. Due to the residual effects of the morning's anesthesia, it took his mind a little while to catch up with his body. Only after he accidentally socked himself in the face did he remember his burns were bandaged more heavily now.

Brenda walked in with a little disposable covered plastic tray,

Brenda said, "Dr. House." No response.

Brenda said, "Dr. House," and touched his right toes. House opened his eyes and rolled them. He knew what that package contained.

Brenda said (and wrote) "Feeding tube time. Promise, after the x ray, we'll leave you alone."

House rolled his eyes and shook his head gently.

Cuddy said "House." He opened his eyes and looked at her. _I heard her voice! _he thought.

Cuddy said (and wrote) "You know you need it. I'll help you. It'll be quick."

House nodded.

Brenda raised the head of his bed to the point where he was almost sitting.

Brenda said (and wrote) "Need to spray your nose to numb it. Hold still."

Cuddy gently held his head still and House motioned with his hand that he wanted to write something. Cuddy gave him the white board.

House clumsily scribbled "Don't do that".

Cuddy backed off. House held still while Brenda sprayed his nose and throat. Brenda lubricated the thin tube and threaded it into his nose and down his throat. When the tip of the tube reached the back of his throat, he started coughing and gagging wildly, but Brenda knew this would go away. "Swallow", she said. House heard her voice but it was muffled and he couldn't tell what she was saying. He looked over to Cuddy for help. "Swallow", Cuddy said and wrote. House complied and the tube slid right down where it was supposed to go. The coughing and gagging stopped. When Brenda's hands were free, after she secured the feeding tube, she looked at him and said "House, do you hear me?"

He saw her lips moving and could hear her voice but the words sounded muffled, just like all the other voices that he heard. They all sounded like they were whispering into fans. If the person wasn't looking straight at him, he couldn't hear them at all. Even when looking straight at him, he could only barely hear a voice and he couldn't differentiate words at all.

He wrote "voice soft no words".

Brenda said and wrote "Tube's in. X ray in an hour or so. Thirsty?"

House eagerly nodded _Yes_.

Cuddy offered him a spoonful of crushed ice which he eagerly accepted.

5 PM, Day 4

House had had a very long day. He slept during the abdominal x ray taken at his bedside to confirm proper placement of the feeding tube.

Chase came in to relieve Cuddy. He turned on the TV in House's room and muted it so the closed captioning would display. He did some channel-surfing and found the evening news. He wasn't going to awaken House, but if he did wake up for anything else, Chase guessed that House might enjoy catching up on the news. House slept soundly without batting an eye. A news story came on TV and Chase hurriedly shut the TV off.

6 PM, Day 4

Brenda called radiology and confirmed with the radiologist that the feeding tube was in the correct position.

Brenda walked into House's darkened room, comfortable in the knowledge that, other than periodic suctioning of his breathing tube, there should be no reason to have to wake him up tonight. Hopefully he'd be able to sleep off the remains of this morning's anesthesia relatively uninterrupted. She started the tube feeding infusion.

12 Midnight, Day 4

During his breathing treatment, the suctioning stimulated another reaction in addition to coughing. House tentatively looked around the room to see who else besides the respiratory therapist knew what had happened. Foreman was there with a completely neutral look on his face as though he'd seen it all before and, actually, appeared a little bit bored. House, on the other hand was mortified. He remembered that some parts of his body were still working just fine. His gut reacted normally to the sudden presence of liquid food when it had been empty for the better part of four days. His gut behaved normally but the force of the coughing during his breathing treatment caused an unavoidable and embarrassing mess. Foreman put the call light on for the nurse and House lay there, shamefacedly, waiting to be cleaned up.

Anne was there again for night shift. Anne walked in with an equally impassive, neutral expression and went about her job with a professional attitude. Actually Anne was glad his bowels were working. In a fairly short period of time, the diarrhea should go away. Anne said and wrote, "Don't worry. It'll stop soon." A few minutes later he felt a warm wet cloth between his legs. He was turned gently from side to side, and within 10 minutes the mess and smell were gone and he was on clean, soft sheets again. 15 minutes later, the embarrassment gone, he was asleep again.


	25. She's Back!

Chapter 25

**A/N – if you think I maligned Amber earlier, you ain't seen nothin' yet. I really KO'd her in this chapter. Nice long chapter for all of you nice reviewers!**

3 AM, Day 5

Foreman was sitting next to House's bed wide awake, reading the American Journal of Neurology. In the darkened room, House's eyes were just barely open. He had caught a glimpse of the TV which had been turned back on and muted, and the program had closed captioning across the bottom of the TV screen. It turned out to be a re-broadcast of the previous evening's local news. House was almost asleep when he thought he read the name "Amber Volakis" in the closed captioning. Immediately his eyes popped open. He wiggled his right toes to get Foreman's attention, but as he looked at Foreman it appeared he was too engrossed in the magazine to notice what House was doing. In a split second the eraser hit Foreman in the head. Foreman jerked his head up and saw that House had written "Amber on tv" on his white board. _Oh no, now what do I tell him _thought Foreman. The story about Amber's attempted break-in to House's apartment had already been announced and the announcer had moved on to another news story. Foreman said and wrote "Don't know what you're talking about". House repeatedly pointed to the message he'd written on the white board – "Amber on tv." "Amber on tv." House kept pointing to that message. Foreman said and wrote "No she's not." House wouldn't let Foreman erase it. "Give it up," Foreman said and wrote.

_Idiot – how long has he known me? "Give it up," he says. Don't think so_ thought House.

House rolled his eyes at the way Foreman seemed to stubbornly refuse to pay attention to what House wanted. He would try to get the answer from Wilson later.

4 AM Day 5

No sooner had House drifted back off to sleep after that irritating and unproductive attempt to get information from Foreman, but he was awakened for a breathing treatment. This breathing treatment was a little different from any of the others he'd had, though. He was used to the respiratory therapist attaching a little plastic chamber close to the end of his breathing tube. There was medicine in the chamber, and the warm air from the respirator would aerosolize the medicine and pump the medicated aerosol into his irritated airways, soothing them and providing breathing relief. After the aerosol had been completely inhaled, the therapist would give him extra oxygen for a minute, suction him to get the secretions out that were a result of his pneumonia, and then let him sleep.

This breathing treatment was very different. After the aerosol had been inhaled completely and the suctioning finished, he closed his eyes to go back to sleep. However the respiratory therapist said "Dr House" and he looked at her. He knew she was talking, but her voice sounded just like everyone else's, like it was coming from a great distance away in the middle of a tornado. He also couldn't understand the words. He motioned for her to write, and she picked up his white board. "Time to work on getting this breathing tube out" she wrote.

His entire countenance relaxed and he flashed a great big smile.

"do it" he wrote.

"Takes time" she wrote.

"don't care, start" he wrote.

"can't do it all at one time" she wrote.

_Here we go_ thought House. _Another one who thinks I'm an imbecile. Of course we can't do it all at once. Guess I'll have to put up with her explaining something I already know for the next 10 minutes, but if that's what it takes to get this ball rolling, let's go for it._

She erased the whiteboard.

Then she did exactly what House expected her to do.

As if speaking to a child who had just learned to read, she said and wrote:

"Don't pull this out." _As if I could pull anything out with my hands wrapped up like a mummy._

"You have to breathe on your own." _No, duh, I was planning on never breathing on my own again. Shut up, just start the weaning trial already!_

"The respirator is going to continue giving you oxygen but it's going to stop breathing for you" she wrote.

She watched him closely for a response. Upon getting no response, she turned the respirator from its previously set IMV mode to CPAP mode with the ordered 40% oxygen. In CPAP mode, or something similar, the respirator provides oxygen and just a little positive pressure to assist in keeping the airways open if needed, but doesn't provide any actual breaths. The person must do all the work of breathing. In IMV mode, the respirator does some or all of the work of breathing for the patient.

After the last ventilator-assisted breath, it took a few seconds before he felt the need to breathe on his own. When he felt the need to breathe, it felt odd sucking air through what is basically a giant straw. It wasn't difficult, at least not for the first 10 minutes. House thought the breathing tube would come out today.

After 20 minutes of CPAP, he was _worn out completely._ Respiratory muscles that hadn't seen any exercise for the last five days were put to a very limited test, and he was shocked at the fact that he could only do 20 minutes.

Tears came to his eyes and he started panicking again as the muscles normally used for breathing wore out. Shallow gasping replaced the relaxed breathing he'd been doing for the first 10 minutes.

"Dr. House, this is great! You did great!" the respiratory therapist said, forgetting he probably couldn't hear her, as she turned the respirator back to IMV (intermittent mandatory ventilation) mode. House was immediately able to relax and let the respirator take over the work of breathing. Anne, doubting that he'd heard anything the therapist said, wrote "I doubt that you think so, but I think you did fine".

House shook his head _NO_ emphatically.

"Yes you did. You did fine. She says so and so do I."

"Rib muscles need exercise."

"Yours haven't had any for five days."

"You just burned up more calories than you've taken in in the last 5 days."

"Plus you have broken ribs and sternum."

"Be patient, it'll get better."

House looked over at Foreman, who was just standing there with a grin on his face.

House thought _Damn, he's smug. When he had that brain infection and Cameron lobotomized him with the white matter brain biopsy, I remember seeing him in the same position and I never laughed at him. I love a good joke probably better than anyone else, but he's laughing at me, and this isn't funny._

What House didn't realize was that Foreman wasn't laughing at him. Foreman had just won a bet with Chase. Chase bet Foreman $100 that House wouldn't last 5 minutes on CPAP. Foreman won the bet. He was smiling because House would've loved it. Hell, House would have bet double or nothing. All Foreman had to do was explain that to House.

He saw House clamp his eyes shut, tuning out the world for awhile, and Foreman just smiled again, turned around, sat down and resumed reading his journal.

5:00 AM Day 5

Foreman closed his journal and cast a look over to House as House was sleeping. Foreman noticed House had erased his white board, and a single message was written in wobbly, scribbled print.

"Go to hell Foreman. Leave me alone. Don't come back" it said.

6 AM, Day 5

House hood

Wilson and Cuddy had just left House's cubicle.

"Foreman, what in the hell did you do???" Wilson screamed.

"Nothing" came the quick, clipped reply.

Foreman was sitting by himself in the corner of House hood, doing nothing, awaiting the punishment he knew either Cuddy, Wilson, or both were going to dish out. He honestly wished he had gone home for the night and stayed under everyone's radar for awhile. When House wrote that message about Amber being on TV, Foreman knew exactly what House wanted to know. He just didn't want to tell House. He was trying to protect House. He told House he didn't know what House was referring to, when in fact he knew quite a bit.

" 'Nothing' as in nothing that would cause him to toss your ass out of his room?" Wilson screamed again.

"Or 'Nothing' as in nothing that would make him think you were laughing at him?"

"Or 'Nothing' as in nothing that would make him think you didn't care that he couldn't do 20 minutes of CPAP when he hasn't breathed on his own at all for 5 days?"

"You think any of this is funny??"

Foreman had no answer.

"FOREMAN!" said Cuddy. "Answer us. What in God's name did you do to him in there?"

Foreman took his time and said:

"First off, everything was fine until he started obsessing about seeing Amber on TV." Foreman hesitated, debating about the next thing he should say.

Cameron, Thirteen, Taub, Kutner, Wilson and Cuddy stared intently at Foreman, waiting for the next crazy thing to come out of his mouth. Chase was in the room with House.

"I thought he was hallucinating" Foreman lied.

"What?" Wilson asked.

"He wrote 'Amber on tv'. I think he was asking if Amber was on the TV. I thought he was hallucinating Amber."

Wilson stared at Foreman and saw right through the lie. "No you didn't." Wilson said with finality.

"Well, it's not like he's never hallucinated before. I thought he was hallucinating Amber. I looked up at the TV and they had already moved on to the next story. I told him No, and to let it go."

"Since you obviously didn't bother to investigate what he wanted, tell us what else happened in there." Cuddy demanded.

"The respiratory therapist and the nurse started his first weaning trial."

"He did fine and they put him back on the vent after about 20 minutes."

"Why were you laughing at him?" Wilson demanded to know.

"Yeah, sure, he did FINE. That's exactly why he told you to go to hell and get away from him." Cameron interjected.

"I wasn't laughing at him" Foreman answered.

"I was smiling because Chase bet me $100 that House wouldn't last 5 minutes on CPAP. I won the bet. Any other patient, and House would've bet double or nothing. I thought he'd enjoy knowing that I won the bet especially since it was in his favor."

"You bet on how long your boss, the man you agreed to be family for, would last in a breathing exercise? A breathing exercise that you, of all people, should KNOW sometimes ends in failure for the patient the first few times? You made a bet on how long it would be until he started gasping for air???" Wilson and Cuddy both cried.

"And then you had the God-awful nerve to just stand there smirking at the foot of his bed, watching him gasp and panic when he couldn't breathe on his own longer than 20 minutes?" Cameron shouted.

"Ok, I've heard enough. Foreman, out. You're not fired. You are out of House hood though. You are not involved in this any more. You are not to come anywhere close to House or any of his nurses, doctors, therapists, WHATEVER, while he's a patient here. In fact I want you out of my sight for now. You are now assigned at least 100 hours of House's clinic duty. Consider yourself sentenced. Get. Out." Cuddy stated.

Wilson said "wait a sec. You knew House wasn't hallucinating about the Amber thing. You're right, you're not House. You're a terrible liar. What do you know?"

Foreman hesitated. "Well, since my trial is over with, I've been sentenced and Cuddy adjourned court, I'm not under oath to say anything anymore" and got up to leave.

Cuddy said "I'll fire your ass now if you don't answer Wilson."

Foreman said "Fine. You wanna hear this? I doubt it, but here you go."

"Did anyone see or hear the evening news last night?" Foreman asked. Nobody responded.

"Amber called me after the code."

"I told her House was still alive but that she could have made things worse or contributed to his death, by waiting so long to call the code."

"She said that was the idea."

"She said she was trying to help him experience the 'afterlife' he had been talking about. She was nuts. She was crazy. I told her she was crazy. She told me he was the crazy one, that all he cared about were games, that he was turning patient care into a huge game, that he caused Stark's death. We all know he didn't cause Stark's death. I told her that. She kept insisting that since she knew House thought she was a bitch, that she was the next one on the block to be fired. She said she might as well ensure first that he got to see the afterlife like he wanted, and then she would voluntarily quit. She kept saying she didn't want it on her record that she got fired. She figured after he died, she'd quit voluntarily; she could say she was quitting because of depression after House's death or something, and that way she'd leave looking like she tried to do a good thing. She said that since he electrocuted himself, it would look like she was just trying to save him by doing CPR, and all she had to do was delay calling the code just long enough to let nature take its course and he'd be gone despite her apparent efforts to 'save his life'. "

"I knew she was on the news. Cuddy, after you called the cops on Scott and they hauled his ass off to jail, he called Amber. She made up all that nonsense about thinking she was fired. She started hiding outside in the parking lot, trying to find her way into the hospital. She never got past the security guards at the front door. Since she couldn't get into the hospital, she started hanging around House's apartment and the cops caught her yesterday trying to break into House's apartment after the neighbors called 911."

"She's a lunatic. She told the cops that House murdered a patient and she was at his apartment trying to collect what she called 'evidence'."

"They're holding her for psychiatric evaluation now and THAT is why she was in the news."

"So fine, you made your point; but I did nothing wrong. You want to know what I did in there?

One - I lied to him and told him I didn't know anything about Amber because I wanted to protect him. You want to tell him about Amber now? Doubt it.

Two – I made a poor judgment call by not explaining the bet to him. You're not bothered by the fact that Chase and I made a bet. House bets on patients and on us all the time. You're bothered that I didn't explain the bet to him. For that, I will apologize. I should have told him why I was smiling. Don't know why I didn't. I want to go back in there later on and explain it to him."

Wilson said, "Oh no, where's Chase?"

"In the room with him" answered Cameron. "Call him now! Get him out of the room! The morning news will be coming on. House can't see that yet until we've had a chance to tell him about it!" Wilson cried.

Cuddy went in to get Chase.

The 6:30 AM local news was on.

The volume was turned up so Chase could hear it, and the closed captioning was on so House could see it.

When Cuddy walked into the room, Chase's phone was ringing. Chase was sitting next to House's head, having just spoon-fed House a little bit of crushed ice. Both pairs of eyes were glued to the TV, and both jaws hung open in shock.

There, in all her glory, was Amber, grinning maniacally as she was being led away from the property at 221B Baker Street in handcuffs. The news program re-broadcast the video of Amber's arrest the previous night.


	26. The Bet

Chapter 26

"House, let me explain" Cuddy wrote on his white board.

House just glared at her.

"House, she's not just a cut throat bitch."

"She's crazy."

"Do you remember paging her before you shocked yourself?" Cuddy wrote.

House shook his head _No_.

"You did. She started CPR on you but she took her time getting to your office. The record shows that she didn't call a code right away either." Cuddy knew that, sooner or later, they'd have to tell him the whole story, but she wasn't sure he'd be up to that right now.

"She must have had psych prob. Tried to break into your apartment."

"Neighbors called 911."

"She told the cops that you killed Stark."

House wrote "Who's Stark"

Cuddy wrote "The patient you had before all this happened."

Cuddy said and wrote "You didn't kill anybody."

"Amber is completely crazy."

"The Princeton PD is holding her for psych evaluation."

Cuddy gave the board back to House for his reply.

"Saw Amber on tv w Foreman"

Cuddy wrote: "Foreman said you told him last night you saw Amber on the TV."

"He lied about it because he didn't want to upset you."

House wrote "Get him"

Cuddy said and wrote "I sentenced him to 100 of your clinic hours."

House cracked a smile and nodded his head.

7 AM Day 5

Cuddy stayed in the room with House.

Wilson motioned for Chase to follow him back out to House hood.

Kutner, Thirteen, and Taub were fixing something to eat for breakfast in House hood when Wilson walked in, followed by Chase.

"Ok everybody, here's the deal. Cuddy's in with him now. This is awful, but at least they have both Amber and her crazy brother in custody now."

"Chase, let me fill you in" Wilson said, and proceeded to tell Chase everything Foreman had told the rest of them.

"Do not discuss this with House, at least not until he can communicate better. I don't want him knowing that Amber wanted him dead. He may draw that conclusion on his own or I may decide to tell him later on but in any case, you are not to discuss it with him at all. If he wants to talk about it, fine; call me, tell him that you called me, and tell him that I'll be down and he can talk about it with me." Wilson said.

9 AM Day 5

"You up to another weaning trial?" Miller said and wrote to House.

_Yes _nodded House.

"Ok, you know how it goes."

"Try 45 minutes this time."

"If you can't go 45 minutes, don't worry; go as long as you can."

"Don't give up. Takes time." Miller said and wrote to House.

House wrote "do it again l8tr?"

Miller said and wrote "depends on how you do now."

10 AM Day 5

Millie, the respiratory therapist, came into House's room to do his weaning trial.

"Hi" she wrote on his board.

He nodded his head as if to say _I'm ready. Get on with it._

"Any ?" she wrote.

_No_ he shook his head.

"I'll stay here with you. If your oxygen saturation drops below about 92, the weaning trial is over no matter what you say," she wrote with a grin. Cameron was there with him too, and enjoyed the little give-and-take going on.

She took him off IMV and put him on CPAP, 40% oxygen, the same settings as earlier.

45 minutes later Cameron was holding his right foot gently trying to keep him calm. House was really working to breathe, but he was also determined to go the whole 45 minutes and not a minute less. His oxygen saturation never dropped below 92 despite the fact that he was covered in a thin sheen of perspiration and his respiratory rate had gone up quite a bit. Millie was concerned that he wouldn't last the whole 45 minutes and, in fact, was ready to end the weaning trial after 30 minutes even though his oxygen saturation didn't drop. She didn't like how hard he had to work to breathe. Dr. Miller walked in at the 30 minute mark and said "If he wants to go on, let's let him go on a little while longer but no more than 45 minutes. I don't want him working any harder than he already is right now but he's a stubborn idiot" and at that, he looked at House and winked. House didn't hear the words but he did hear the voice, he saw the wink, and he saw the word IDIOT come out of Miller's mouth. House just glared at him. "and I know hell will freeze over before he says he's ready to stop."

Cameron looked knowingly at Miller. She said and wrote to House "Had enough?"

He shook his head _No._

10:45 AM Day 5

Weaning trial over, Millie put him back on his original IMV settings on the respirator and House, within minutes, stopped working so hard to breathe and let the ventilator do all the work. He dropped, like a lead balloon, back to sleep.

Blythe walked in to House's room and saw that Cameron had just finished giving House a little bit of a right foot massage with some lotion that smelled really good.

"You're so good for him," Blythe said. Cameron smiled sheepishly at Blythe and sat down demurely in her chair in the corner.

"I'm just trying to be helpful," Cameron said in reply.

"I hope he recognizes how helpful all of you are to him. He must be difficult to work with, I know."

Cameron had no answer for that one. She wondered if Blythe knew how much she really loved House.

"When he's better, I hope he remembers how helpful all of you were to him when he needed you the most."

Cameron laughed silently at that one. _Oh, he'll remember all right. He'll never let us live it down. He'll say we tried to "care" him to death._

Blythe said, "I can take it from here. Why don't you take a break, and get some rest?"

Cameron agreed, paged Chase, and left House's cubicle.

12 Noon in the cafeteria, Day 5

Cameron and Chase were at House and Wilson's favorite table in the cafeteria in the middle of a heated exchange.

"_I can't believe you would do such a thoughtless thing!_" yelled Cameron.

"Oh come on, that's just the kind of thing you know House lives for," Chase replied.

"I had no idea Foreman wasn't going to tell him about the bet. In fact we both knew Foreman was going to be in the room during the weaning trial, and the whole idea was for Foreman TO tell him – after the trial was over. House would have loved it."

"Robert, it's one thing to bet on a horse race or even on who's going to get fired…" and with that, Cameron paused and stared Chase right in the eye. "But it's another thing to bet on how a patient responds to a test or a treatment. You know that's wrong. Just because House does it doesn't make it right. In fact, it is probably PROOF that it is wrong." Cameron stated.

"You know, I'm sick of you trying to righteous me to death." Chase replied.

"Chase, think about it! Do you think House has ever bet on himself? During all of his health scares, when he was a patient, do you think he ever bet on himself? NO! When he's the patient, he's the one suffering the loss, and it becomes personal."

"I'm not righteousing you to death. I'm just reminding you that you're above betting on patients. Don't do that again."


	27. The Goodies

Chapter 27 **A/N – now for some light humor! I keep forgetting to insert the standard disclaimer that I don't own the show or any of the characters from the show and I'm not making any money from this. It's just for fun!**

3:00 PM

Wilson went in with a box of goodies and found Thirteen sitting on the right side of House's bed, holding his right foot and watching House read what she had written for him on his white board.

"I like working for you"

"Even though you can be a jerk"

"When you get well"

"C U back at work"

"Burma Shave"

House just gave an exaggerated eye roll and looked at Wilson as if to say _Perfect timing; look what I've had to deal with here!_

"Hey Thirteen, need some time with the Big Guy here before Brenda comes in to ruin everything", Wilson said with a wink at Brenda, who was also coming in to the room. "Thirteen, why don't you take a break for awhile?"

Brenda smiled and said "Flattery will get you everywhere. I need to assess him," and she looked squarely at House when she said this, "and I need to know what you two are up to."

House heard a muffled voice but couldn't make out the words, and he looked to Wilson for clarification. Wilson said and wrote "She wants to know what I'm up to. It's a secret. Pretend like you don't care." House looked at her with innocent, puppy-dog eyes and shrugged his shoulders.

Brenda listened to his lungs, which had cleared up significantly. More importantly, she noticed that for the few minutes she had been in the room, House was breathing a little bit more on his own and wasn't relying on the respirator to do all the work for him. He still had a long way to go, but one or two breaths per minute on his own was a big step forward. She'd been concerned when she heard that he had already had two short weaning trials in less than 24 hours, since normally even one sometimes wears a patient out for the rest of the day.

She checked his chart and found an order from Dr. Miller to increase House's tube feeding because the diarrhea seemed to have stopped, so he could tolerate more of the liquid nutrition. She made a note so that they would increase his tube feeding later on tonight after the dressing change.

All good news, so far.

His heart rhythm and blood pressure had been great; doing very well off the dopamine and norepinephrine. He was still getting IV antibiotics for the pneumonia and the ear infections, and would be for some time.

The dressings all looked good, but House was in for another test this evening. It was time to start the daily dressing changes, and they had planned on doing them every evening from here on out late in the evening and then would let him sleep after that. He would receive the other therapies he needed earlier in the day, and save the burn dressing changes for later in the day so he could sleep afterward.

Brenda said (and wrote) "The dressing changes start today."

"U get more morphine for that"

"U also get Versed today"

"Not sure if U'll need Versed after today"

"Have to see how you do with it"

"We have to turn your feeding off and wait awhile"

"When your stomach is empty, we'll do it"

"U OK with that?"

House shrugged his shoulders and nodded his head slowly.

While Brenda finished up the other things she needed to do in the room to start her shift, Wilson eagerly plopped the box down in front of House. Wilson looked like a kid in a candy store. House looked like he was just irritated and tired.

Wilson erased the board and wrote "U R gonna like this"

House shook his head _NO_ in an irritated fashion.

Wilson wrote "Tired?"

House nodded _Yes _and thought _you idiot, of course I'm tired_.

Wilson wrote "Too bad" and started pulling items one at a time out of the box.

House's laptop with all the porno on it. Wilson turned the laptop on and House immediately cracked a little hint of a smile when he saw that Wilson had changed the desktop image on his laptop. The desktop image was now a picture of Cuddy in a red bra and thong, perched on top of House's piano in a seductive pose, with the caption "House's House of Pleasure". Brenda saw it, smiled and said nothing. _Boys will be boys, _she thought. Wilson opened the word processing program on House's laptop and typed in the words "Knew you'd need a distraction. This is easier for me than writing on your board. You can keep your board for yourself!" House immediately thought about the "Gau Meng" file, then he remembered he'd written it in Chinese. Although it really wasn't top secret, House preferred keeping it private as long as possible. Hopefully, the fact that it was written in Chinese would deter anyone from trying to translate it into English. House was an expert in cracking passwords, and had absolutely no qualms about reading even password-protected files on anyone else's computer. He fully expected that if anyone else got a hold of HIS computer, they would try to do the same thing. After all, his fellows broke into other peoples' houses on a routine basis. He reasoned that any one of them would be able to crack his computer password. It would be useless to try to password protect this file. But writing it in Chinese should deter most people from trying to read it.

Wilson's IPod. House's face turned red and he immediately started crying a little when he saw the IPod. He scribbled on his white board "Can't hear it, dummy." Wilson typed on House's laptop "I'll explain the IPod in a minute. Trust me, it's a good thing. In a few days when they take the packing out of your ears you'll love it."

House's Chick Webb poster. Wilson had made a trip back to House's apartment specifically for this item. Wilson hung the Chick Webb poster up on the wall in front of House. House was very surprised. "Yep, goes with the IPod thing. Stop crying, you idiot. I'll explain in a minute. Just enjoy this." Wilson typed on House's laptop.

Wilson typed "I have been researching the idea that some kinds of music can help people who are recovering from deafness. I know you can hear a little but you can't distinguish words, right?"

House nodded _Yes_ and looked very interested in what Wilson said.

Wilson typed "I think you need to re-learn how to hear. I know that Dr. Mekhi and Ron Jenkins are the experts in this area. The surgery helped. We need to do whatever they say as far as your hearing rehab goes. I think that instrumental music might be the key, if they say it's Ok."

Wilson paused to give House a moment to think about this.

"I took all my boring Kingston Trio stuff off my IPod and put all your cool tunes on it."

House wrote "Good" on his white board.

Wilson typed "Chick Webb was a drummer, right?" House smiled at that. Chick Webb was the hottest drummer in Harlem for a time. Chick Webb gave Ella Fitzgerald her big break. Ella Fitzgerald won the amateur contest at the Apollo Theater in Harlem, a competition much like today's Idol TV program, and Chick took her on as his band's lead singer while she was just a teenager. House loved Chick Webb and had every record Chick and his band ever made.

Wilson typed "Instrumental music with a good strong beat might really help. Chick might be your savior. We just have to wait and see what the pros say."

Wilson wrote, "Now get some sleep while you still can. I did something for your viewing pleasure while you go to sleep. Pleasant dreams!" Wilson closed the word processing program, and waited covertly while Brenda finished her assessment and left the room. Then Wilson started a slide show on House's laptop of, shall we say, some very _interesting_ images and let House dream for awhile.


	28. Agony

Chapter 28

8 PM Day 5

The feeding had been off long enough that it was safe to start the dressing change.

House was nervous, although he tried hard not to let on how nervous he was. He looked bugged out. His eyes were wide open, nervously watching anyone who walked in the room. Kutner volunteered to be with him during the first dressing change. Kutner could see how distressed he was, but when he wrote "U need anything?" on House's laptop, House shook his head no. Kutner wrote "U look nervous. U need Versed?" and House thought about it for a long time. After several minutes, he nervously scribbled the word "yes" on his white board.

Brenda was assembling the supplies they'd need in the dressing change room. Kutner put the call light on, and Brenda came to see what was needed. Kutner said (and typed, for House's benefit) "He wants the Versed now." Brenda said "Coming up!"

Burns over large portions of the body are usually cleaned and dressed in a procedure room. The ICU had a special procedure room in it with a whirlpool. This gives the patient privacy and provides enough room for the patient, the staff, all the machines attached to the patient, the patient's bed, the lifting device necessary to lift the patient out of the bed and into the whirlpool, the whirlpool itself, and usually at least one exam table and cabinets.

Brenda wrote on House's laptop: "I'll give you the Versed in a minute. First let me explain what will happen. We'll knock you out with the Versed and a little more morphine. Then we take you in the bed into the procedure room. I'll be there with some help, respiratory therapy will be there and so will the doctor. We'll put you on a Hoyer lift and then take off all the dressings except the ones on your head and ears. Then we lower you, using the Hoyer lift, into the whirlpool. You'll still be on the respirator and all the tubes that are currently in will stay in. We just lower you into the whirlpool low enough so that the burns are covered with water but your head stays high and dry. We turn the whirlpool on, and it does all the cleaning. We lift you out of the whirlpool using the Hoyer lift, and put you back on a clean bed. We put silver sulfadiazine crème on the burns and cover with dry dressings. When you wake up you'll still look like a mummy but you'll be clean. We can give you more versed or morphine at any time during the procedure if you need it, and we can give you more morphine after you're back in the bed if you need it. You probably will so don't be stubborn about it."

House completely abandoned any attempt not to look nervous. He looked terrified. Kutner said and wrote "U'll be fine. I'm staying with U too."

Brenda gave him the Versed and waited until he went to sleep. After he drifted off to sleep, she called her co-worker in and she called respiratory therapy. The doctor was already waiting in the dressing change room. The three of them pushed House in his bed, the respirator, the IV machines and the portable cardiac monitor into the procedure room. Kutner followed them in, more to be a support for House than anything else.

House was out like a light.

Brenda gave him more morphine and they rolled him from side to side to put the Hoyer lift pad underneath his entire body lengthwise. Kutner observed that they were very practiced at what they were doing, and if he were awake, House would have to admit that they were impressive. Within minutes his dressings were off and they had gently lowered him into the warm whirlpool using the Hoyer lift. The respiratory therapist took care to make sure nothing went wrong with his breathing tube or respirator. Everything went according to plan and the procedure was over with in about 30 minutes.

Kutner had nothing to do during the procedure, but he wanted to be there for House in case House woke up in pain or scared while in the water.

House moved a little bit when he was lowered into the whirlpool, but didn't open his eyes and didn't seem to be in much pain.

Kutner had never seen the scar on House's right thigh and his heart broke for House when he saw it. He knew House never wanted anyone to feel sorry for him because of his disability. House must have known ahead of time that Kutner would see the scar when they put him in the whirlpool. Kutner wasn't the type to pity anyone, especially those who so obviously made it clear that they didn't want pity.

Kutner now had a new respect for House, as he thought of countless days when House was barely able to get around yet never missed a day of work. Kutner realized that even though House was a jerk most of the time, there was a difference between his normal everyday jerkiness and the days when he bit everyone's heads off and tried to hide in Coma Guy's room. Those were the days he was hurting the most. Everyone gets crabby when they're hurting, Kutner realized. Just means the rest of us have to keep our game faces on and try extra hard to understand.

House was back in his bed, clean and dry and covered with new dry dressings. Brenda had given him some more morphine during the whirlpool session. He was still completely out of it when they returned him to his room. Kutner remained very impressed with how smoothly the procedure went.

10:30 PM, Day 5

House was in agony, the likes of which he had not felt since the days immediately following his infarction surgery. Sweat soaked through everything. His neck veins bulged out. It was all he could do to keep from clenching his jaws on the breathing tube. He was trying to write, but his writing was illegible.

Everything hurt. His leg was just a drop in the bucket.

The morphine dose he had been on wasn't sufficient anymore. Somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind he thought he remembered someone telling him that he might need more pain medication, and not to be stubborn about it.

He wasn't being stubborn. He had been sleeping off the effects of the Versed, and suddenly started coughing again. Kutner was with him when he woke up, and fortunately, so was Brenda. Pain hit him from all directions. For a split second he had forgotten about the dressing change and then it slammed home. His hands hurt worse than anything. It felt like someone had sliced off his skin with a cheese slicer.

Brenda was ready with the additional morphine, having been prepared for this all along. Kutner was still there and still being just as calm and supportive as he could be. "She's giving you something, House" he typed on House's laptop, which was pointless because House's eyes were clenched shut but still Kutner had to do something to let him know help was on its way.

Brenda gave him a morphine bolus and increased his morphine drip until he started showing signs of relaxing, a few minutes later.

10:45 PM

House's eyes were open and he was a lot more relaxed.

Brenda wrote "Bet you weren't expecting that" on his laptop.

He just looked at her and the understanding was clear.

She wrote "I went up on your hourly morphine. You should be able to go back to sleep now. Is it better?" House nodded his head _Yes_.

Brenda wrote "Need anything?" He motioned to write, and she put the marker in his right hand.

"tube out" he wrote.

"Not tonight, but soon" she said and wrote on his laptop.

At that, Kutner raised his eyebrows and looked like he was about to question Brenda on the wisdom of saying that. He didn't say anything in front of House, but when Brenda was finished he pulled her outside of House's cubicle.

"Are you sure about that? Because, you know, he'll remember you said that. When he isn't ready to be extubated anytime soon, he and everyone else will pay the price."

Brenda replied, "I think he'll be ready within the next few days."

_Doubtful, _Kutner thought. "I hope so, I really do."


	29. Blythe's contemplation

Chapter 29 **A/N – this is a short chapter but one that is crucial to the story, and addresses an issue related to coping with disability that I haven't heard dealt with on the show.**

12 Midnight Day 5

Blythe looked forward to spending a quiet night alone with her son, with her maddening husband out of the way at least temporarily. Wilson crept into the room quietly, bid good night to Blythe and House, and quietly slipped out of House's room.

She sat contemplatively watching her son sleep.

_How did things get so out of hand? How could I have missed the fact that my son wanted to kill himself? For God's sake, this is his second suicide attempt! What kind of mother allows this to happen? _

'A bad one', the devil on her shoulder said.

_John is at fault for a lot of this, but so am I. I have to share the blame. I know blame isn't always the healthiest thing to focus on but I can't help it now. I told John that he drove Greg to this. Yes, that's true, and I could have stopped it. Greg didn't have to grow up the way he did. The truth is that I could have stopped the abuse simply by leaving John and taking Greg with me, and I didn't. I had a hand in this too._

Blythe sobbed quietly, unable to stop her tears and trying not to awaken her son.

_I should have instilled confidence, trust, and love in him. These are qualities that help people handle the misfortunes that life deals out from time to time. I should have given him those gifts. _

_I've heard so many comments. People talk. I've heard other disabled people criticize him behind his back because he calls himself a "cripple". I've heard people think that's a derogatory term. I've heard criticism that he should have been able to move past his disability, to deal with it and move on. _

_He would have been better prepared to deal with his disability when it occurred had he grown up with the confidence, love and trust that every child deserves. Instead, they cut out his leg muscle when his emotional gas tank was empty and he had no reserve to call upon. _

_And we failed, even then, to recognize that the reason he started using the Vicodin for more than just physical pain relief was because he needed something to fill his emotional gas tank, and we still didn't recognize it for what it was. We didn't supply what our son needed. He needed what everyone needs. Love, respect, confidence. In the absence of those, what else is there? _

_How did things get so out of hand?_

_I know how, and his gas tank has been empty for far too long. It's time to fill 'er up._


	30. Gau Meng

Chapter 30

1 AM Day 5

Wilson went home for the evening. He pulled off his coat, grabbed a beer from the fridge and turned his computer on. He found the thumb drive in his coat pocket and put it in the computer.

"_Gau Meng_"stared at him on the screen.

It was written in Jyutping Cantonese. Wilson found a Cantonese – English translating application on the Internet, and began the slow work of trying to translate the file into English.

"_My Life" _

It was a genealogy file. Among many other interests, Wilson discovered that House was into genealogy. This was not simply a diary. It was a very detailed genealogy research project. Unbeknownst to Wilson, House had probably been working on his family history project for years.

There were two pages each devoted to a particular family member. On the first page, there were answers to all of the standard questions, such as Father, Mother, Spouse, Date of Birth, Place of Birth, Occupation, and Education. The second page was devoted to notes. House had filled each "notes" page with beautiful, elegantly written prose. He bragged about every one of his family members; even his father. Pride burst forth from almost every page. For some of the individual records in the file, House had even inserted digitally scanned photographs of the individuals.

House bragged to no end about his father, on his father's notes page. Wilson could barely believe what he was reading.

"Dad was a model Marine and tried to be a good father. He was a pilot in the Marine Corps and had a number of men under his command. We lived on almost every continent in the world because of his military career. We lived in Egypt, Japan, and many other interesting places. Everyone respected my dad. I think it bothers him that he wasn't as good a father as I wanted him to be. Maybe I expected too much out of him. Maybe he just didn't know how to be a father or how to handle me. Maybe he resented my mother for having had the affair, and took it out on me. I don't know. I do respect him, though, for what he has achieved in life. It must have been difficult seeing a living, breathing reminder of his wife's adultery every day. My dad was a harsh disciplinarian and the things he did to me as 'punishment' would, today, be considered child abuse. Even with all of that, though, I do respect him although I haven't done a very good job of showing him that. I know that he loves my mother."

House went on and on. It seemed as if the words must have just poured out of him when he wrote this. Wilson was dumbfounded. He knew about John's history of abuse toward his son. But House mentioned none of this in his father's "Notes" section. This didn't seem like the typically closed-off House that he knew. It almost seemed like House was trying to rationalize it away.

_Does House honestly think there could be any excuse for abuse?_ It had never occurred to Wilson before now that House might honestly have thought there was a rational reason why his father punished him so harshly.

_Oh God. Does House think the abuse was his fault?_

Wilson put his head in his hands for a few moments. Understanding suddenly dawned on him. The reason for writing the file in a language that none of House's peers would understand became even more obvious when Wilson got to page fifteen, four hours later.

"Gregory House".

_As I started thinking about what to write on my notes page, it occurred to me that something is wrong here. I didn't have to think about what to write on anyone __else's__ notes page. On the other notes pages, the words erupted out of me like water from a spring. But now it's time for MY notes page and my slate is blank. I have spent the first hour just trying to figure out how to start. Even at that, an hour and a half later, the page is still blank. So here I sit, pondering what to write about myself._

_Everyone calls me a miserable misanthrope. I feel like a complete failure, and I don't know why I feel like a failure. I just do. I got myself kicked out of one of the most prestigious medical schools in the country for cheating. Cheating, for God's sake! I don't have to rely on cheating. Never did. I did it for a stupid reason. I was trying to prove a point. I pissed off enough instructors there that they wouldn't take me back when I appealed my dismissal. The saddest thing about that episode of my life is, as long as I live, I will never ever live that down. It will follow me to my grave. I manage to piss everyone off. I hate being alone, even though I tell people I like it. I secretly hate being alone, which is why it's that much more difficult to understand why I piss everyone off. No wonder nobody wants to be my friend. I had lots of girlfriends but I pissed every one of them off. The only one who could manage to be around me for more than a few years left after I pushed her over the edge. What happened to me physically wasn't her fault, although I blamed her for it. She saved my life, but I never acknowledged her for doing that. I loved her, but I had to find someone to blame for my life being so screwed up. I blamed her, I pissed her off, and she left. Lisa Cuddy is still around, but only at work and only because she is my boss. We have a very complicated relationship. I think I could make it better; I think I could make it easier. I always screw everything up in the end, though, so it isn't worth the effort to work at a relationship with her only to have it blow up in my face at the end._

_I don't know why I have never been able to deal with my disability. I do define myself by my disability, even though I tell other people that I don't. I hate that I do, but I do. I look at paraplegics, quadriplegics, stroke victims, and many others who have more complicated physical disabilities than I do, and I'm jealous of them. Damn! How twisted is that? I look at them and realize I'm jealous of them because they're able to move past it, to deal with it, get on with their lives, and I sit mired in misery. I've been advised to seek psych help. I tell people that I don't believe in psychiatrists; but the truth is, I don't do it because it would be just further proof that I'm a failure. I can help everyone else, but I can't help myself._

_So here I sit._

_I see other people my age looking forward to their retirement years, the years that are supposed to be "golden". _

_Then I realize that most days, I'm not even looking forward to the next day._

_I guess it'll all be over with soon enough._


	31. I did it, Mommy

Chapter 31

6 AM, Day 6

Having had a fairly quiet and uneventful night, House was awakened when the x ray technician arrived to do his morning portable chest x ray. Anne, his wonderful night shift nurse, said and wrote "Ready to wean, Dr. House?" She turned off his tube feeding for the weaning trial.

House had to admit he really admired Anne. House thought _God, I wonder if she knows how many nurses I've KO'd over the years with my sarcasm muscle. I guess what goes around doesn't always come around, thank God._

He nodded _Yes_.

She wrote on his laptop "You know the drill, but today's different. If you can go 2 hours without too much trouble, the tube comes out."

"I'll be in the room for most of the weaning trial. My other patient is right next door so even when I'm not in the room I can still hear you fine. If I'm not in the room, Millie will be, so between the two of us someone will be with you at all times. Your feeding is off so you don't aspirate. We'll turn it back on after the weaning trial is over. We change shifts at 7 am and Lynne is back today. I'll give her report in your room, so someone will be with you at all times for your ogling pleasure."

House's ersatz family had taken a brief break from their bedside vigil. House was actually glad they were gone, for just a moment anyway. He didn't really want any of them to see him fail this weaning trial too. House was just convinced that this one would end just like the others had, with him exhausted and relying on the ventilator to breathe for him. He would try, oh, he would always try, but his body had such a history of betraying him that he had learned not to let his hopes get too high.

The night shift respiratory therapist came into House's room as Anne finished updating House. They put him on CPAP just like before and House immediately started shifting around the bed nervously, panting a little bit and looking for all the world like he was witnessing the second coming of Christ. Anne looked at him and said "House". He stopped nervously moving and looked at her expectantly. "House" she said. He heard her voice and heard his name, albeit it sounded terrible.

"Stop moving. Look at me." she said. She purposefully did not write, because he reacted as though he might have heard her.

"You're fine."

House started to focus intently on listening to her and trying to understand what she said. She looked at his heart monitor and he turned his head toward what she was looking at. What he saw looked fine. He saw a normal heart rate, normal oxygen saturation; the numbers showed no cause for alarm. _Calm down. I'm hyperventilating. It's just nerves_ he told himself.

He wrote "I know" on his white board.

He wrote "nerves".

Anne looked at him and said "Pain?"

He wrote "not bad"

Anne wrote on his laptop "House, this is great. You heard me!! We can give you more pain meds but I'd rather wait until the breathing tube is out. I want this tube out of you more than you do, believe it or not. Morphine can depress respirations. I know you know that. I bet you don't want that."

Anne evaluated the entire picture and realized that the more she talked to him, the more she got him to focus on her voice, the more he relaxed.

House had always used distraction as a coping mechanism. House knew long before Anne did that he could distract himself from worrying about the weaning trial if he focused on trying to hear and understand Anne's spoken words.

Anne kept up the simple one or two word phrases and House responded well.

At 7 am Lynne walked in to House's cubicle for morning report. House was wide awake but all of his attention was focused on trying to understand what Anne was saying, and his nervousness about the weaning trial seemed to have completely evaporated. His weaning trial was proceeding smoothly. Cuddy was watching from outside House's cubicle, just outside his field of vision. She didn't want to disturb House or his nurses.

8 AM Day 6

Dr. Miller came in. Lisa was sitting at House's right side, caressing House's right foot and keeping his attention focused on her while she spoke to him.

"House." He looked at her and nodded his head.

"Good job!" _Ok, he must think I'm a moron if that's the brightest thing I can come up with, but honestly, he is doing a good job. There's no other way to put it _Lisa thought.

"House" said Dr. Miller. House heard his voice, but not what he said. He was too focused on whatever Lisa might say next to worry about Miller for the time being.

"House" said Dr. Miller, and Lisa moved aside. "The tube can come out now." Dr. Miller said and wrote on House's laptop.

"Your weaning trial went fine. I'm glad you can hear a little. That's great. Now stop ogling your girlfriend and look at my ugly face," Miller said and wrote. Lisa chuckled.

House looked at Dr. Miller expectantly. Millie, the respiratory therapist, positioned herself at House's head.

"First we deflate the cuff" Dr. Miller said, and Millie deflated the cuff around the breathing tube. Immediately a little rush of air could be heard. "Air is moving around the outside of the tube now. Normal. U Ok?" Miller said and wrote. Everyone looked at House's monitors, including House, and everything looked fine. House looked at Miller and nodded _Yes_.

Millie said and wrote "this part's gonna suck." The few facial hairs that had escaped Anne's shaving job earlier this morning were going to get pulled out forcefully when the tape around the breathing tube was removed. _Do it quick,_ House prayed.

Rip, rip, rip. The tape, and a few of House's facial hairs, was off.

"Take a deep breath." Dr. Miller said and wrote. House took a deep breath, coughed a little and presto change-o, Millie smoothly and quickly pulled the breathing tube out.

House was startled when he heard himself cough. He coughed once when the end of the breathing tube brushed against a certain part of his throat on its way out. No big deal. What startled House so much was the sound of his cough. The sound!! He heard it! True, it sounded more like someone clearing their throat in the middle of a wind tunnel, but still, he heard a noise that he himself made!

Millie immediately placed a humidified oxygen face mask over House's mouth and nose. Millie, Lynne, and Dr. Miller focused on House's respiratory status which was stable. Lisa Cuddy focused on House's beautiful clear blue eyes, looking straight at her with his familiar mischievous, furtive look.

"See, I did it, Mommy" he said.

10 AM, Day 6

"House, we can let you eat ice chips today. Tomorrow, if you're still doing Ok, we can start clear liquids like soup and jello" Miller said and wrote on House's laptop. At the word "jello", House said "EWWW" and made a horrible face. "I know. You do what I say while you're in my kingdom," Miller wrote.

Dr. Mekhi arrived with Ron Jenkins. Upon seeing them enter the room, House turned his head to focus on whatever they might be saying.

Wilson was with House. "House," Wilson said. House immediately turned his head back and looked at Wilson.

While House was focused on Wilson, and not looking at Dr. Mekhi, Mekhi said "House, look at me." No response.

Mekhi said "House, look at me if you hear me." House was still focused on Wilson, and did not respond.

Dr. Mekhi moved into House's field of vision. "House, can you hear anything?" he said and typed.

House's voice was still pretty raspy from the breathing tube, but he said "Yes and no. I can hear voices but muffled. Sound like talking in a wind tunnel."

"Can only hear words if you're right in front of me and only one word sentences."

"I heard the voice but couldn't pick out anything you just said, except my name. I read it." His face was downcast and he closed his eyes, utterly discouraged.

Mekhi called his name and touched him gently to get him to open his eyes. He said and typed "Hearing rehab starts today. We won't do a more thorough hearing test until the packing is out, and we won't take the packing out for another few days yet. Your hearing may improve quite a bit after we take the packing out, or it may not. The fact that you can hear a little is good. I know this is a lot to deal with but try not to get any more discouraged about it than you are now."

Ron stepped into House's field of view. He typed and said "Here's what you need to do until the packing comes out."

"First, we noticed that you focus intently on everyone you can see. Your eyes move around to everyone in the room. It helps to focus on just one person at a time."

"It's easy to get paranoid about what others in the room are saying." _Yeah, no shit. I noticed that_ thought House.

"Let the person in front of you relay what everyone else is saying. Yeah, this means you have to trust whoever that is. Don't try to focus on anyone except just the person in front of you."

"Secondly, Dr. Wilson said he brought an IPod for you. That's wonderful. I know it sounds weird, but an audio player can actually be an excellent tool in hearing rehab if used properly. The key is to select the right kind of music and not to overdo it. Something simple, instrumental only, and with a heavy beat is good. No vocal music for now."

"And here's how I want you to do it," Ron said and wrote.

He connected the IPod to two stereo speakers. "No ear buds, even after we take the packing out" Ron wrote.

"Put the speakers up here" he showed House where to put the speakers, close to his head but not too close.

"and let's give 'er a trial."

House clamped his eyes shut out of pure nervousness, not sure what to expect. He was very afraid of yet another failure; one that would be public, with all these people around. Ron turned the music on.

Wilson had put a lot of thought into the music he selected for House's "hearing rehab" playlist.

The opening bars of the first song poured out of the speakers. Although it had vocals, the beat was easily recognizable. House picked it out after a few moments… the first few bars of "Smokestack Lightning" by the Yardbirds.

A shadow of a grin appeared, followed by tapping his right foot in time with the rhythm of the song. _Music!! Maybe I didn't totally screw up _thought House.

Ron let him listen to the rest of the song, and then turned the music off.

"House, look at me." Ron said. He didn't write it, since House's eyes were closed anyway.

House opened his eyes.

"Ok, good, you heard at least some of the music and you heard me. That's great. You can listen to the IPod but just the playlist that Wilson picked out. If you don't like the songs, take it out on Wilson! Take a break between songs. No more than 15 minutes at a time. Call those your audio rehab sessions. No more than four sessions a day for now. Don't exceed the volume I set. And don't be disappointed if you can't hear every instrument. Just focus on the percussion for now," Ron said and wrote.

House said "Ok". Ron said and wrote "Do you hear your own voice?" House said "Yes but it sounds like I'm talking into a fan." Ron said and wrote "Can you hear your own voice better than other voices?" House said "No difference." Ron said and wrote "Don't be discouraged. Do what I told you to do, and I'll see you tomorrow."

1 PM, Day 6

Having had tube feeding and two bites of chipped ice for lunch, courtesy of his mother, House fell deeply asleep. Blythe and Taub were quietly occupied with other things. Blythe was crocheting something and Taub was texting his wife.

Wouldn't you know it, as soon as House fell asleep, someone in purple scrubs with teddy bears on them started knocking much too loudly and cheerfully on the glass door of his cubicle, startling everyone within.

"Good afternoon, Dr. House!" shouted some as yet unidentified occupational therapy assistant, when House startled awake and opened his eyes.

The only thing he heard was the guy's unnecessarily loud knock, and the only thing he WANTED to hear was the sound of that idiot's shoes beating a hasty retreat out of there.

His exhausted look instantly turned into an angry, vitriolic glare at the idiot who rudely awakened him from a good sleep.

"GET OUT" House screamed, having been rudely startled awake by the loud knocking.

Taub ran interference and pulled the poor guy outside the cubicle.

"You ever heard of Dr. House before?" Taub asked the OT aide.

"Nope! I'm here to..." answered the annoyingly cheerful and loud aide, but he didn't get a chance to get the entire sentence out before a white board eraser came flying through the air, missing the aide's head by a few inches.

Taub looked around and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Ok, first off, none of us wants to deal with a pissed off Dr. House. And yes, 'pissed off' is actually a huge understatement for what he is expressing right now. He's pissed at you because you woke him up and probably scared the devil out of him by the way you did it. He can't hear well at all but shouting doesn't help. Obviously we now know he can hear knocking. Listen, I know you have a job and all to do, but take it from me. This is very bad. If I were you, I would not go back in that room now unless you want your testicles roasted for dinner." Taub warned the guy.

"But I just have to…"

Taub said, "I don't care. Get out while your jewels are still intact. Come back later, less cheerful and a little quieter. He'll be Ok. Just don't scare him when you come back."

The OT aide showed Taub and Blythe, who had come out to investigate the cause of her son's sudden outburst, what he'd been carrying. There were assorted adaptive devices to enable those with limited hand movement to maintain some independence in activities like eating and drinking. The aide said "I'm supposed to instruct him on their use before I leave them for him. That's what I needed to do today, but it can wait. I'll come back at dinner time. Maybe he'll be better then."

Taub said, "One can only hope."

3 PM Day 6

Cameron was with House. House was awake. Family Guy was on TV and House seemed to be engrossed in it, cracking a hint of a smile as he read the closed captions.

A dietary aide came in and handed tonight's dinner menu to Cameron, since House clearly didn't want to be bothered in the middle of Family Guy.

Cameron gave it to House, expecting the reaction she got when he read the choices.

'Your choice of favorites: Lemon, Orange, or Strawberry Gelatin'

'Broth du Jour – your choice of our most delicious chicken or our delectable beef soup'

'Your choice of beverage – tea (hot or cold), decaf coffee (black), lemon-lime soda, diet lemon-lime soda, cola or diet cola.'

"Oh, _Exquis!!_" House spat out sarcastically. "Yeah, colored water is what I need to get me off that stuff" he said, pointing up to the plastic bag full of liquid formula dripping into his feeding tube. He handed the menu back to Cameron, unmarked.

"House, pick something so we can get rid of the menu before you rip it up." Cameron said and typed as she gave the menu back to him.

"Lovely. Red jello, yellow pee soup and black beverage" House spat out and threw the menu down. He couldn't currently use any other writing tool besides his white board marker because the bandages on his hands made it impossible to grasp anything smaller than his marker. The marker was too big to circle the tiny words on the menu.

Cameron circled the "Strawberry Gelatin", "'Chicken' broth", and "decaf coffee (black)" selections and was about to hand the menu back to the dietary aide when Mr. Perky from occupational therapy came bouncing back into House's room. This time, at least, he was a little quieter about it and decided against knocking.

"No, not again!" House said, a little more loudly than he intended. _Geez, I can't even tell how loud I am_.

Cameron interjected. "Hi, there. I'm his friend and fellow, Dr. Allison Cameron. Who are you, may I ask?"

"My name's Paul and I'm one of the occupational therapy aides. Allen, the occupational therapist, is coming up tomorrow for Dr. House's initial occupational therapy eval. In the meantime, I have some adaptive devices that should help him eat and drink without so much help. Is now a good time? I have to show him how to use these before I leave them here."

"Now is as good as it's going to get," Cameron smiled slyly in reply. _Let's see how this goes_ Cameron said to herself. Paul approached House.

"Dr. House," Paul said. House looked at him like the guy was some complete moron.

Cameron pushed Paul out of the way and moved into House's field of vision.

"House" Cameron said. House's features relaxed not one iota as he glared at Cameron.

"I'm not in the mood for whatever this idiot wants. I'm tired, hungry, hurting and looking forward to a session of more agony in the procedure room in a few hours. Leave me alone" he said in a tone that was probably not as harsh as he intended it to sound, turning his attention to Paul.

Then House saw the gadgets that Paul brought into the room. His features visibly relaxed as he realized Paul was not going to do anything painful.

"Dr. House, my name is Paul. I'm your occupational therapy aide. You'll probably see so much of me while you're in here that we'll know each other's mothers' favorite pie recipes by the time I'm done with you." Paul typed on House's laptop.

House showed no visible reaction and said nothing, but thought _Hmm, thinks he's funny. Might turn out to be some fun for me here after all._

"Dr. House, since dinner is coming up soon I want to start off showing you how to use the adaptive utensils. We'll start with the fork and spoon." Paul typed.

The fork and spoon had pieces of foam rubber wrapped around their handles, to make the handles bigger and softer, easier for someone with bulky bandages around their hands to grasp. They also had Velcro straps around the handles, so that people who were completely unable to grasp the handles could still eat independently with the utensils held in place in their hands by Velcro straps.

Paul could see that House was able to grasp the dry erase marker, which was about as big as the foam rubber handles on the utensils. The Velcro straps wouldn't be needed, and would just get hung up on his dressings. Paul removed the Velcro straps on everything and handed the fork to House. Even with the bulky dressings on his hands, he was able to grasp it securely enough to make it safe for him to use independently.

In addition to the foam rubber handle, the adaptive spoon had a larger than normal bowl, so that it would be easier for someone with limited hand mobility to scoop up thick liquids like cottage cheese or pudding without spilling the contents of the spoon.

House appreciated the ingenuity of whoever invented these gems.

"Now here's the straw."

_Looks like we're back in kindergarten_ thought House, as he caught a glimpse of the big plastic colored straws. _But if it works, well, what the hell._

"I know you can see fine, but these straws are colored because we also use them to help people who have limited vision. It's sometimes easier to see a brightly colored straw than it is to see a white one. A straw makes it easier to drink thin liquids without spilling or choking and without needing much, if any, help." Paul typed on House's laptop.

"One more thing. I have to show you how to use the cups." House saw the large, brightly colored plastic cups. One was a mug for hot liquids and the others were of various sizes for cold liquids. All of them had oversized curved handles on them that he just had to slide his hand through. Very little if any grasping would be required. The cups meant for cold liquids had Velcro straps on them, for people who could move their arms but were completely unable to grasp anything. Paul removed the Velcro straps on them before letting House try them out.

House felt foolish on one hand for being reliant upon utensils that looked like they were meant for overgrown toddlers, but on the other hand, he thought _Anything that means I can eat and drink by myself is a welcome relief right now_. He stuck a hand into the handle on the coffee cup with a flourish and said "Gimme". Cameron smiled and said "I think that's it for now."

House said "You're funny, Mr. Perky. Now get out."

5 PM, Day 6

'Dinner', if one could call it that, arrived in House's cubicle. Cuddy was there this time. _Oh joy, now she gets to see me eat with all my toys, like a freaking two year old_ thought House.

"You don't have to help me," House muttered so softly that Cuddy could barely hear him. Lisa looked at him and said "House, I'm not babying you."

"The hell you're not" he shouted, unsure of how loud he was yelling but not really caring at this particular moment, either.

She had to stop herself from yelling back.

"I'm not babying you" she wrote. "If you want any of this stuff, as yummy as it looks, you're going to have to feed yourself 'cause I'm sure not feeding you." She calmed down and smiled, and he realized she really wasn't babying him. "But I'd pay anything to see you open these packages unassisted. You want another hundred bucks? Open the lid on the soup bowl," she wrote on his laptop.

House cracked a smile and recognized her comment for what it was, just something to lighten the mood.

House figured he could appreciate a little humor here and there especially since it was coming from one of several people whose lives he reasoned that he must have completely interrupted.

Brenda walked in to turn off his tube feeding in preparation for the evening dressing change later on. She made sure he saw her. She said "House," and wrote on his laptop "tube feeding is off for the dressing change. You can eat whatever you want from the tray since there's not a lot there to begin with. Once you're done with the tray that's it as far as oral intake until you wake up after the dressing change. Tomorrow, and from here on out, we'll try to get your dinner tray to you a little earlier so you can have more time to eat it."

Cuddy had the packages open on his tray. She poured some coffee into his adapted mug and arranged the mug and adapted utensils on the tray where House could reach everything.

She looked at him and said "Need anything else?" He heard her, albeit not clearly, and replied "Some nooky nooky to help me sleep," and tackled his 'food' independently.


	32. The Catfight

Chapter 32

8 PM, Day 6

Cuddy and Cameron were with House for the evening. Brenda walked in to prep House for the dressing change. Since House was already familiar with the procedure, she gave a brief explanation to Cuddy and Cameron. Cameron wanted to go into the procedure room with them, but Brenda said she didn't think they were going to need any help and she'd prefer that they wait either in his cubicle or in House hood.

While House was gone, Cuddy and Cameron had nothing better to do so they went out to House hood with the intent of catching up on emails and returning phone calls.

Things got interesting, though, once each woman sat down to do her own thing.

While Lisa was sitting with her head down, looking at the emails on her laptop, she said quietly, "You know, for someone who isn't even on his team you sure hang around a lot. It's almost as if you have an ulterior motive. Who's covering for you in the emergency room? You can't have found someone to cover for you so quickly and expect them to still be there six days later." _If I find out she left them high and dry just so she could be here to put on her big act for House, she's outta here._

"Warshowski's covering for me; said he owes House a favor for the whole lead poisoning thing a few years back," Cameron retorted. _Why does she care?_

"And he's still covering for you, six days later? What did you do, sleep with him? None of the other physicians on staff here like House enough to do any favors for him, much less work six days in another department so that one of House's exes can come sit by his bed." Cuddy said suspiciously, wondering what Cameron's true motive for being here was.

"Contrary to popular opinion, being on House's team did not poison me. Whether or not they like House has nothing to do with me. I had no problem finding coverage. Warshowski's covering for me. Don't worry about it." _She knew Warshowski was covering for me before this conversation even started, _thought Cameron_. I had to get it approved through her first anyway. Why the sudden concern?_

"I just want to know that you're here for the right reasons and that you're not leaving the emergency room understaffed." Cuddy replied, arching her eyebrows and looking even more suspiciously at Cameron.

"I don't know what you're up to. You approved the change in coverage six days ago when I approached you about it. You told me that I was free to do what I thought I needed to do, as long as I found coverage and told you ahead of time who was covering for me. I did all of that. Let it go. You have nothing to be worried about." _I bet she thinks I'm getting my hands in her cookie jar too much. And by cookie jar I mean House._

"Yes but I didn't think you'd take advantage of Warshowski's generosity by sticking him with all of your shifts there. Don't you think it's time to go back to work?" questioned Cuddy, with a little smile on her face.

"Warshowski is fine. I just checked my voice mail and he would have called if there was a problem. I'll call the ER and check on them personally if it will make you feel better." _Stay out of my business, lady, _thought Cameron.

The mood in the room was growing more tense by the minute. Estrogen was dripping off the walls. Had Brenda not called when she did, the ensuing catfight would've made House a happy man indeed. Fortunately, Brenda called House hood to let them know the dressing change was over and he was back in his room. They could come in after a few moments. This gave each combatant enough time to compose herself and put her game face on for House.

They went in to see him but he was out like a light. Neither saw any reason to risk waking him up. Brenda reported that the dressing change showed no new problems; no signs of infection. They knew that Chase was planning on spending the night tonight, so while both women would have gladly spent the night too, neither one wanted to spend the night with the other one anywhere close, so they decided they'd be better off going home.

11 PM, Day 6

House opened his sleepy eyes to see Chase looking anxiously at him from about two inches away.

House shifted uncomfortably under Chase's scrutiny.

"Where ya been?" Chase asked him, then remembered after the fact that he probably ought to write that down too.

"Get away from me" growled House, in pain from the dressing change and uncomfortable at having Chase in his face.

Chase bowed his head and left the room.

BUZZZ…BUZZZZ……….BUZZZZ went House's call light.

Brenda popped in. "What's up?" she said and typed.

"Get Chase back in here" was the terse reply.

Chase quietly came back in, unsure of what he had done that had upset House.

"You idiot" said House.

"I didn't tell you to leave. I told you to get away from me."

"I'm in pain and the last thing I want to wake up to from my Versed-induced coma is a guy with long blond hair and BO, leaning into my face."

"You can stay, just don't try to kiss me again."

Chase typed "House, I wasn't trying to kiss you! Eww. I was worried because I couldn't get you to wake up."

"Shut up" House replied, with a hint of a grin. He would never admit it, but secretly, he was beginning to appreciate how much these people he usually berated actually were concerned about him; even the so-called "a$$ kisser".

"Gimme my IPod." Strains of Elvis' "Baby what you want me to do" could soon be heard thumping from the speakers. Just as Chase was about to ask House if he could hear any of it, he looked at the bed and saw the right foot tapping out the rhythm under the blanket. "Thanks, Chase" muttered House softly. "Tell Brenda I need her."

A few minutes later, Lisa came in. "Dr. House, I'm Lisa Minton, your nurse tonight. What can I do for you?" she said and typed.

"Where's Anne" was House's quick reply. Elvis was pounding away on the IPod but House's eyes were clenched shut and he wasn't tapping his foot to the rhythm any more. Chase saw the clenched jaws and his heart rate going up.

"Anne's off tonight. What can I do for you?" Lisa typed. House kept clenching his eyes shut, and Lisa had to touch his toes to get him to keep his eyes open so she could communicate with him.

"Morphine's wearing off… need more… what's the drip set at now?"

Lisa checked the pump. "It's set at 5 mg an hour. We can titrate it up to 15 mg an hour. We have plenty of room to go. Sorry you're in pain. I'll go up on it now. Let's try 7 mg an hour, and I'll check on you in a few minutes. You should get some relief" Lisa typed. House's eyes were clenched shut again, so Lisa touched his toes to get him to open his eyes so he could see what she typed.

11:10 PM, Day 6

"I'd ask you how you were feeling, but you'd just call me an idiot, so let me get Lisa for you" said Chase. House's eyes were clenched shut and he heard nothing of what Chase said. He was focused, for the moment, on trying to find the nearest receptacle to empty his stomach into. Chase found something for him and Lisa came in response to Chase's call. House was hurling into a little pink plastic basin. The chicken broth, decaf and jello "dinner" were colorful reminders of why someone should not eat so soon before a procedure requiring anesthesia.

"Morphine can do this; so can Versed. I have some Compazine to stop the vomiting. When the vomiting stops, I want to try using Toradol for pain and if it works we can back off on the morphine" Lisa said to Chase, knowing full well House could care less at the moment about what she was saying.

11:35 PM, Day 6

House was snoring. He had ripped off his oxygen face mask earlier for obvious reasons, and it lay dangling uselessly over the side of his bed, blowing humidified oxygen into the air instead of into his lungs. House's respiratory status still wasn't all that good since he still needed breathing treatments every few hours, but his oxygen saturation was holding steady at 92% breathing just room air. Chase knew he needed the oxygen mask on but he needed sleep even worse. Chase wasn't willing to risk accidentally waking him up just to put the oxygen mask back on.

The Compazine worked and so did the Toradol that Lisa gave him when the vomiting stopped. Lisa lowered the morphine back to 5 mg an hour and started him on a regular Toradol administration schedule.

12 Midnight, Day 6

Chase was sitting in the darkness next to House's bed as House snored away. Lisa had come back in to replace House's oxygen mask and he didn't bat an eyelash. Lisa whispered to Chase, "This is good. I'm more concerned about him getting enough sleep tonight. You were right to let him sleep. I think Dr. Mekhi is coming in tomorrow to take the packing out of his ears, and he'll probably start more intensive physical and occupational therapy tomorrow, so he needs to sleep tonight."

Chase started drifting off to sleep listening to the white noise of House's noisy snoring.

An hour or so later, Chase woke up, bothered by the bet he'd made with Foreman the other day and even more bothered by the fact that Cameron was being such a goody two-shoes about it. Now he'd have to make up for what he did, or else kiss any chances he had with Cameron good bye. House was asleep, so he headed out to House hood looking for his laptop.

He turned his laptop on and opened his email program.

"Cameron,

I'm sorry I did what I did yesterday.

I'm going to step away for a day or so mostly because I need to talk to Foreman. We need to find a way to fix what we did. I'm not sure how we're going to do that or if Foreman will agree, but even if Foreman doesn't agree, I have to find a way to fix this. I will see you in a few days.

Love,

Robert"

Chase hit the _SEND_ button, turned his laptop off and silently made his way out of the hospital.


	33. Dr Golan

Chapter 33

**A/N – another nice long chapter for all of you nice reviewers. Special thanks to mmgage for much needed help with Chapter 32. In Chapter 33 House's psychiatrist is named Dr. Golan not because it sounds like the character Dr. Nolan from the show, but because the name fits with the nickname House decides to give him later on. Pay special attention to the paragraph where Dr. Golan has formulated his opinion of House's "friends". It sums up my feeling about all of the supporting characters all through Season 6.**

**Enjoy!**

8 AM, Day 7

Having had the first relatively solid night's sleep in days, House was ready for Dr. Mekhi the next morning. He only remembered being awakened once for a breathing treatment and he must have dropped right back off to sleep again.

House was nervous about what to expect when Dr. Mekhi and Ron Jenkins walked in. He knew Dr. Mekhi was going to remove the bandages from his head and the packing in his ears. What he didn't know was the extent to which he'd be able to hear clearly once all of that was gone.

His hearing was still terrible. When the IPod was playing, he could only hear loud bass lines or percussion, but the melodies or vocals all just ran together. More often than not, he picked out the rhythm because he could feel it through the bed. When people spoke to him, he could only hear them at all if they were a few feet in front of him and facing him directly. Even at that, he could only pick out certain words, like his name or a few other words if they were uttered one at a time. He could not pick out longer sentences and he could not differentiate between different voices if more than one person was talking at the same time. He wasn't sure it would be much better with the packing out.

Well, now was the time to find out.

"House." Dr. Mekhi said, standing in front of him. "Packing's coming out. You ready?" he said. The audiology exam would come soon after taking the packing out, so they did not want to use the laptop or the white board. He would either hear them or he would not.

House heard him, but barely. He nodded, afraid to get his hopes up.

"Ok, here goes." Dr. Mekhi slowly unwrapped the gauze netting from around his head, then gently removed the gauze packing from both of his ears.

Packing and dressing gone, one thing was blatantly obvious. When this hearing exam was over, he'd need a good hair brushing. His famously mussed hair was even more mussed than usual.

But first things first.

"House, keep your head still." Dr. Mekhi said. Dr. Mekhi moved to the right side of House's head, and House moved his head to follow him visually. Obviously House didn't hear him. "No," Dr. Mekhi shook his head. "Hold your head still like this." He moved House's head back to the center position, looking straight ahead, and asked Wilson to remind him to hold his head still if he tried to move.

Once House was looking straight ahead again, Dr. Mekhi moved to the right side of House's bed, out of his line of vision, and said "House."

"Yes" came the raspy reply. _Good, so he can hear one word phrases._

Continuing to hold his head still in the center position, Mekhi moved over to the left side of House's bed. "House." He said.

"Yes" came the raspy reply again.

"Tell me your name." No reply, except House's eyes were moving wildly over to the left to try to see Mekhi. _Too many words. They must all be running together_ assessed Dr. Mekhi.

Dr. Mekhi moved back over to the right side of House's bed. "House, tell me your name."

"Yes" came the hoarse reply, after a few moments of apparently guessing at Dr. Mekhi's request. _Ok, he heard something, but probably just his name. _

"You're hearing some of what I say, but not all of it. That's Ok. Don't make anything more out of it than it already is. All it means is that you have some hearing. It doesn't mean that your hearing won't come back. Ron's going to do a formal hearing test now and we'll take it from there. You might need hearing aids, you might not. Even if you do, it might be temporary. I won't know anything until I look at the results of the hearing test," Mekhi typed on House's laptop.

_Wonderful_ thought House. _I'm really going to look like Chase's grandpa now, with the cane (or walker or whatever I wind up with) and hearing aids._

After Dr. Mekhi left the room, Ron approached House with the audiology testing equipment. "House, you know how this goes. I'll put a set of headphones on you. First test is pure tone audiometry. You'll hear tones from either your right ear or your left ear. When you hear a tone, I'll need you to raise the hand on the side you hear the tone from," he said and wrote on House's laptop.

Ron put the headphones on House and began the test, called "pure tone audiometry". Normally this test is done in a soundproof booth, but obviously they could not move House to a soundproof booth. Headphones would have to do. House's eyes were wide open, looking for any kind of visual cues. He wasn't getting any from Ron. He saw Ron's hands moving on the testing equipment, but couldn't tell if he should be hearing anything or not. He didn't hear anything at first, and then, after a few minutes, he hesitantly raised his right hand and then his left hand a few times. As the testing went on, he grew more confident and was quicker to raise his right or left hand. One time he was sure he heard the tone in both ears, and raised both hands. Every time he raised his hand, he looked at Ron for some type of reassurance, but Ron's face was completely blank.

The first part of the hearing test was over. House thought the whole thing was over with when Ron came in to take the headphones off. House said "We done now?" Ron said and wrote "No…"

"Tuning fork is next." Ron said and wrote.

"I tap the tuning fork and put it on the bone behind your ear. When you can't feel or hear the vibration any more, I'll put it in front of your ear. All I want you to do is say something when you hear it."

Ron tapped the tuning fork and placed it behind House's left ear, and repeated the same procedure behind the right ear.

The final part of the tuning fork test involved tapping the tuning fork and then putting it on House's forehead.

"Not done yet" Ron said and wrote.

"Tympanogram is next. This is to test and see if the patches we did surgically are intact."

A small probe was painlessly inserted into House's left ear, and then the right, to test how well the ear drums and the little ear bones were working. Everything looked normal.

"One more test" Ron said and wrote. This was really grating on House's every last nerve, but he knew it was necessary and steeled himself for one more test.

What Ron didn't tell House was the reason why they had to do this last test. Ron did an Acoustic Reflex test because House did so poorly with the pure tone audiometry test. Basically it appeared that House was, more often than not, guessing at the tones during the pure tone audiometry test, so the acoustic reflex test became necessary.

A probe was placed in House's left ear and a loud tone was generated. Ron tested to see if the stapedius muscle worked as it should to protect the ear drum against loud noises. The same procedure was repeated on the right ear. He used the test to estimate House's hearing thresholds since the results from the pure tone audiometry test were so poor.

When he could sense that the whole thing was finally over with, House asked "How did I do?"

Ron said and typed "If I told you 'fine', I'd know I was lying and so would you. I need to review all the data and sometime later today or tomorrow I'll be back to let you know what's going on and what the plan is for any more detailed hearing rehabilitation. You do have some fairly significant hearing loss, but don't be discouraged. You can recover some or all of your hearing and this could be a lot worse. Until I get back, don't stew over this although I bet you probably will. Remember that no news is good news."

Blythe walked in when Ron was finished. She was alone with her son. His eyes were open, but he was staring at the ceiling and seemed to be deep in thought. She didn't know the details from the audiology exam, but figured by House's expression that it must not have gone very well. She called his name and he looked at her.

"Honey, how did the hearing test go?" She said and typed on his laptop.

He just looked blankly at her and shrugged his shoulders.

_Everyone's going to know soon enough that I really did screw up badly. I thought taking the packing out would have made a difference. I can barely hear anything, on top of all the extra pain I caused myself and everyone else. I might as well just be dead. Why bother trying to explain this to anyone. No doubt, they've all already formed their own opinions anyway. Mom just feels sorry for me, Dad will think I got what I deserved, Wilson will agree that I got what I deserved but he'll never tell me that. Instead he'll keep pointing out everything I did wrong, and whatever __he__ thinks I need to do to fix things. Cuddy will see me for the useless man I am, and all I've done in the eyes of Cameron and my team is give them more reasons to want me committed to the loony bin. What doctor who has tried to kill himself more than once should still be practicing medicine?_

_Now Mom wants to talk to me. God knows I don't want to talk to anyone. Please, please just let me die._

House clamped his eyes shut and said "Mom, don't take this the wrong way. I don't want to talk now. Please let me sleep." _Permanently_, thought House. _I can't live like this. _

Blythe touched him on the foot again and said and typed, "Son, if you don't want to talk now I don't expect you to. Please don't tune me out though. I don't know what happened during the hearing test yet but from the way you're reacting, I'm guessing it wasn't what you expected." _Actually, it was exactly what I expected_ thought House. _Why should I deserve good news?_ "I'm with you through it all, though, honey. We can deal with this. I know you're too proud to admit you want or need help, but please let me help you with this."

She made sure he could see what she typed.

House did not reply.

11 AM, Day 7

In House hood

House's peeps had reassembled. They were looking decidedly better although the newest concern on everyone's plate was that House had completely stopped responding to anyone. This was the reason for this morning's informal gathering. House had stopped intently focusing on people and trying to understand what they were saying. He had given up. He either clamped his eyes shut or else just stared blankly at the ceiling or the walls. He had given up writing on his little white board. He wouldn't even look at the laptop when anyone tried to communicate with him that way. He didn't care.

Blythe relayed to everyone else what had happened earlier today. She knew he had given up when he didn't reply to the last thing she told him.

"I don't know how I can help him when he won't even acknowledge me," she cried.

Wilson said "It's time psych was involved. I know that Dr. Miller called a psych consult but I don't know who it is or when they're coming. Let me talk with Dr. Miller after we get done here. Does anyone know the results of the audiology test?"

Chase said "Foreman does. I know he was talking to Dr. Mekhi this morning about it." At that, every eyebrow in the room went up.

Chase said "Foreman won't tell anyone but he does feel bad about how we acted. Trust me, he won't show his face here again anytime soon, but he's a neurologist so nerve things interest him. He's been talking to Mekhi all along. Foreman said when they did the first part of the test, the pure tone audiometry, House was mostly guessing at the higher pitched tones. The only ones he got correct fairly consistently were the lower pitched tones. When they did the word recognition test, he only scored about 50%. They were not sure how much of that was due to guessing. So they did some more tests and apparently the problem is just a conductive hearing loss. Foreman thinks it will be much better when the swelling is completely gone."

Wilson added, "And my guess is that House doesn't believe anybody anymore."

Cuddy said "We need psych NOW."

While they were out in House hood, Dr. Mekhi was in with House.

"House" Dr. Mekhi said in a normal tone of voice. No answer.

"House!" Dr. Mekhi said more loudly. No answer.

"House, why aren't you talking to anyone anymore?" Mekhi wrote on House's laptop.

House just looked straight ahead; he would not maintain eye contact with anyone.

"House, look at me. I need to tell you something. This is probably not as bad as you think it is" Mekhi typed on House's laptop. Mekhi twitched House's right toes to try to force House's attention on him. That earned him a weak kick.

"House, I'm saving this message on your laptop because you need to read it. The hearing test was not as bad as you probably think it was. You have roughly a 50% hearing loss but it's all conductive. I don't see any nerve damage. The hearing bones are fine too. I think this is all due to soft tissue swelling and maybe some residual infection that hasn't cleared up yet. On top of that, there's the simple fact that you're lying in bed. If there's any residual fluid in the middle ear, lying in bed makes it harder for it to drain out like it normally would. Once you're able to get out of bed, even in a chair, gravity alone will help drain any fluid that might be there. If the infection doesn't completely clear up soon we could put tubes in but I don't think that'll be necessary.

Your hearing loss was mostly noticeable at the higher frequencies – the higher pitched tones. Obviously you were guessing at those, because you got most of them wrong. It's fairly common with acute traumatic hearing losses. The lower pitched tones, like percussion, bass clef on a piano, bass guitar, tuba, and deep voices, with those you did fine. That's why you can hear people say your name. The word 'House' is a low pitched tone. A bird chirping, a flute, the treble clef on a piano, some women's voices, whistling, harmonicas, and words like 'she' or 'he' and so forth – those are _high_ pitched tones and it's common to have trouble with those after a traumatic ear drum injury like yours. A lot of times that is self-correcting and we don't need to do anything but just watch while it heals. We might use hearing aids in the meantime to help alleviate the frustration while this heals. I need you to understand the chances of recovering normal hearing are actually very good."

No reply from House. Not even a glance in Mekhi's direction.

"Well, then, I'm saving this file on your laptop and I'll be talking with your mom and your people in a few minutes. I'll see you later," typed Dr. Mekhi.

1 PM Day 7

House sat there staring at his lunch tray, completely untouched. His adapted utensils were within his reach but he made no attempt even to move.

Cuddy said "House", and for a moment he looked at her then quickly returned to staring at the ceiling.

"House, we need to talk" she typed on his laptop.

"No, apparently YOU need to talk. Everyone is forgetting what I need. I need to be left alone," House snapped back, figuring that since silence wasn't getting the point across, maybe he did need to say something.

"House, you need help." _Yes. I need someone to unlock the morphine pump for me. A few minutes of morphine free-flowing into me, and there'll be no more need for this conversation._

"I don't need help from you. I need you to LEAVE ME ALONE!" he shouted.

"House, I'm not going anywhere. You're talking now. If you don't want to talk any more, you don't have to talk to me, but psych is coming down today. You at least need to talk to them. I'm not abandoning you though," Lisa typed on his laptop.

2 PM Day 7

In House hood

In strode Dr. Archibald M. Golan; all 6 feet, 8 inches, and 380 pounds of him. Blythe, Wilson, Chase, Cuddy, Kutner, Thirteen and Taub were waiting for him.

"I hear you're the folks I should introduce myself to first before I go in there. My name's Dr. Golan. I'm a psychiatrist. I've spoken with Dr. Miller already. Dr. Miller called me in on consult. I've already seen Dr. House's most recent medical chart, but haven't gone through all the old ones yet. I wanted to introduce myself to you first, and get to know some of Dr. House's background, if that's all right with you."

"Absolutely" agreed Wilson, Cuddy, and Chase. "Yes, that would be fine," said Blythe. Kutner, Thirteen and Taub weren't sure what they'd be able to contribute besides the details from the electrocution. Kutner was eager to help. Thirteen looked very uncomfortable at the thought of being asked to share anything she knew with House's mother in the room. Taub looked bored.

"Ok. As I said, my name is Dr. Archibald Golan. I've been in private practice for over 30 years. I'm board certified in psychiatry. I'm happy to answer any questions you have about my background." He paused for questions. None were forthcoming.

"Alrighty, then. Let's get down to business. I'm familiar with the events surrounding this electrocution. I'll get to details about his childhood and so forth much later. What I need to know from all of you right now is this. Do you think this was a suicide attempt?"

Everyone looked at him like _do you think we're idiots? Of course we do._

Golan said "I have my own opinion but I need to hear it from those who are close to him. I'm aware that he had a patient who also electrocuted himself and claimed to have seen an afterlife. I'm aware that Dr. House apparently used that experience as an excuse to 'see it for himself'. Did he do anything or say anything to any of you to try to convince you that this was not a suicide attempt? Did he say anything to any of you to indicate that he wanted to commit suicide?"

There was no answer at first, but Dr. Golan patiently reclined back and waited out the silence. "No", Blythe said softly. Everyone else in the room except Golan looked at her in surprise, but nobody said anything.

A few minutes went by, and Cuddy looked at Wilson. Dr. Golan picked up instantly on all the looks being shot around the room. He patiently waited for someone to speak up.

Wilson cleared his throat and said "Well,…" and the long story began.

"I've known House for a number of years. His first name is Greg, but he's House to me and I'm Wilson to him. Anyway, we've been friends for a number of years. I'm not sure I can tell you everything you want to know in a short period of time and I think the answers I'm going to give you to your questions are going to seem complicated. I don't know… but here goes."

"He's done a lot of crazy self-destructive stuff. I mean he's never told me he wanted to kill himself, but he's done a lot of things that could inadvertently result in his death. He talked incessantly about this particular patient's 'afterlife' experience, but he never told me that he was going to do anything about it. So if you're asking 'did I know he was going to electrocute himself,' the answer is no. If you're asking 'has he ever given me any indication that he wanted to kill himself', I'd say the answer is… yes…."

Dr. Golan said "Did you ever confront him and ask him directly if he wanted to kill himself?"

Wilson: "Yes. I asked him after the electrocution if he tried to kill himself. He said no and I think he was lying."

Golan said "Ok. So do you all agree that this was a suicide attempt, disguised as an attempt to investigate the patient's claim about the existence of an afterlife?"

No answer, but as Golan looked around the room at faces filled with shame, he said "I'll take that as a yes."

Dr. Golan said, "Moving on. What other things has he done that could have been interpreted as suicide attempts?"

Chase said "Last year, we were discussing another patient in our office. A deranged man barged in. Instead of trying to avoid the situation like he normally would do, House stood up to the guy and baited him. A few seconds later the guy shot House twice – once in the neck. I think House wanted the guy to kill him. I'm not sure he knew ahead of time that the guy had a gun, but House is pretty perceptive."

Wilson said "He has nearly overdosed on Vicodin and booze a number of times."

Wilson said "Two years ago he bought a motorcycle that tops out at about 180 mph. I thought that was odd for a man who needs a cane to walk. I wondered how he'd maintain his grip or balance on a bike when he's missing muscles in his right thigh. He wasn't deliberately going to drive it off a mountain or anything, but I tried to talk him out of it because I thought it was too reckless and he bought it anyway."

Cuddy said "Last year he had a clinic patient who was a cop. I still to this day don't really know what the cop did to him, but I know what he did to the cop. He baited the cop, the cop arrested him later on a narcotic and speeding charge. He wound up in jail overnight. While the whole ensuing debacle about the narcotics charge played itself out, he went through Vicodin withdrawal. In the throes of withdrawal, he started cutting himself and nearly died from the withdrawal."

Cameron walked in during that statement. "What you failed to mention, Dr. Cuddy, was that you caused all of that. He wasn't trying to kill himself during the Tritter mess. He was trying to alleviate his pain. You caused all of that. He didn't just 'go through' Vicodin withdrawal, as you say. He wasn't cutting himself because he wanted to die. Tell Golan what happened. You 'forced him' into withdrawal. Get your story straight."

Blythe buried her head in her hands and looked like she was about to scream. Golan saw her reaction and immediately suspected that there was more to it than just a reaction to what everyone else said. He said, "Ok, I have enough. May I ask your name?" as he looked at Cameron.

"I'm Dr. Allison Cameron. I used to work with Dr. House."

Dr. Golan looked askance at these people who "claimed" to be his friends.

Astounded that they would let even one of these behaviors go untreated in someone who they claimed to care about, he said "Alright, everyone. Thank you for your insights. I need to speak with his mother privately. I will then introduce myself to Dr. House. How long I'm in there with him will depend on his reaction to me. I need to keep my assessments and so forth private, so I'll be dealing with Dr. House, his mother, and Dr. Miller. I hope you all understand. Thank you for your time." All six feet eight inches, 380 pounds of Dr. Golan lurched up out of the chair and strode with authority out of House hood into the ICU, with Blythe following timidly behind.

"Mrs. House, shall we talk in private?" Dr. Golan asked. He asked Dr. Miller if they could use Dr. Miller's office privately.

Dr. Golan closed the door behind Blythe as she seated herself.

"Mrs. House, tell me about your son. Shall I call him House, or Greg?"

"I call him Gregory. I think he'll be more likely to answer you if you call him Dr. House."

"Mrs. House, tell me something you think I should know about Dr. House before I go in there for the first time. Judging by your reaction in the waiting room, I'd guess you have something to share that you didn't want to share out there."

"Dr. Golan, I'm married. The man I'm married to has gone back home to Lexington because I sent him back home. I have no family with me here except my son."

Acutely aware that she did not use the word "husband", he sat silently, waiting for her to continue.

"The man I'm married to has given up on Greg. There is nobody in our family who cares about him except me."

"There are skeletons in my closet. I have not shared them with any of Greg's co-workers."

"The thing I think you should know before you go in there is that these people are not his friends. The man he calls 'Wilson' is an acquaintance he met at a medical conference years ago. The woman he calls 'Cuddy' is his boss. The other people are fellows that he hired. Dr. Cameron was his fellow until she quit last year. She still works for the hospital, but not for my son anymore. She occasionally comes up to my son's office, for some unknown reason, to get involved with his cases even though she doesn't work for him. They went on a date once. That's all."

"My son has no friends. He lives by himself, alone. He plays musical instruments alone, by himself, for entertainment. I also think he does other less wholesome things for entertainment or gratification. But the whole point is these people are not his friends and he is very lonely. We would have moved in with him or asked him to move back home with us except the man I'm married to won't have any part of either of those things."

"Greg lived with a woman for several years. I never really liked her but he did. They were very close. She was an attorney. She left him after the infarction and that's all you need to know about that for now. I think I'd rather wait and give Greg a chance to talk about that if he wants to. I feel like I've already shared too many private things anyway. It's not fair to talk about him behind his back like this."

Dr. Golan replied gently, "Thank you. It helps to have some background information before going in to see a patient for the first time. I have no idea how he's going to react to me initially. He may just completely shut me out and ignore me; he may yell, he may curse. It'll be difficult to foretell. My reaction to any patient is guided, in part, by what I already know about the patient before I go in the first time. This helps."

"I need to conduct my first session with him privately. It's nothing against you or anyone else. He may look to you for guidance as to what you think he should say. I don't want that. I want to see his reactions without any outside influence. I'm planning on one hour sessions a day with him. I may do one one-hour session a day, or more, depending on his needs. I also need to let you know that everything that happens during our sessions is completely confidential which may mean that I may not be able to discuss them with you. At some point, I'm hoping that we'll get to the point where we can have joint sessions which will involve just you and him. I'd anticipate it may be awhile before we get to that point."

With that, Blythe went back out to House hood and Dr. Golan went in to see his patient.


	34. The Call

Chapter 34

**A/N – I'm listening to "If I Can't Have You", track 4 on Meat Loaf's new album "Hang Cool Teddy Bear" that was just released in the US this week. Track 4 features Hugh Laurie on piano. Another track features Jack Black on vocals and guitar. The album is AMAZING. Get it if you don't already have it!**

3 PM, Day 7

His patient had steeled himself in preparation for this invasion of his privacy, as he saw it. He knew a psych dr. was coming, but that's all he knew. House had spent all of his life building rebar-reinforced concrete walls with locked doors around himself. Nobody, not even Stacy was able to unlock the doors to his inner sanctum. He wasn't about to let some stranger pick the lock now.

"Dr. House, my name is Dr. Golan. I'm a psychiatrist," he typed on House's laptop. _Golan Heights_, House immediately nicknamed him.

"Dr. House, can you hear me or shall we use the laptop as we are now?"

No answer.

"Fine, I'll use the laptop until you say otherwise. May I call you Dr. House?" Golan typed.

No answer. House just stared at the walls. _Let's see if silence works for this idiot._

"Ok. Dr. House it is then. Dr. House, I'm here because Dr. Miller asked me to get involved. Will you talk with me?" he typed. House was looking anywhere besides at the laptop. Currently he seemed acutely interested in the color of the curtains Golan had pulled around his bed for privacy.

Dr. Golan made sure that the laptop was within House's field of vision.

"Ok, you're not inclined to talk. That's Ok. That doesn't mean I can't." Golan typed.

"I'm not just 'a' psychiatrist. I'm 'your' psychiatrist. I'm working one-on-one with you. I'm guessing you don't want me here, right?" _No shit, idiot. I don't even want ME here. I'm just a freaking lump of flesh. Keep talking at me. Hope you don't mind talking to the dead._

"Well, you kinda don't have a choice for now. Until you respond, you don't have a choice. You're stuck with me." Golan waited to see what that would elicit.

What it elicited was House angrily turning the TV on with the volume all the way up.

"House, what do you think that's going to do?" typed Golan. "I can hear, but you're not talking. You can't hear too well, so the TV is obviously meant to bother me. If you think you're trying to drown me out, you're not accomplishing anything. If you think you're going to drive me away because of the noise, trust me, it'd take a whole lot more than that. The only people you're going to irritate are the nurses" and, sure as shooting, Brenda came in and turned the TV off.

House grabbed the remote again and turned the radio on, volume maxed out.

"Dr. House, trust me, the more you do that, the longer I'm sitting here. Go ahead." Golan typed, with a small smile on his face. This was a smile of understanding, not one meant to mock. He had met a kindred spirit here. This was going to be fun.

House recognized the small smile. He'd reacted that way himself thousands of times, pretty much every time he got a new case. Every time one of his patients was caught in a lie, House flashed that same smile. When it came to lying, they were dealing with the Master. He could see through lies a mile away and usually they were terrible ones. House found Dr. Golan disconcerting because he knew from Golan's smile that Dr. Golan saw right through HIM. House immediately sized Golan Heights up as a worthy opponent, one he would not easily be able to con or lie to.

House gave up the silent treatment. "Shut up and get out" he said, but only half-heartedly. There was no evidence of mean-spiritedness, of hate, of sarcasm, or of anything other than just not caring at all.

Dr. Golan said and typed, "Good. That's a good start. I know you have a busy evening and you'll want to sleep after the dressing change. I'm not shutting up, and you're not kicking me out. I will see you tomorrow." Dr. Golan got up and offered a handshake to Dr. House, who begrudgingly acknowledged Dr. Golan for the first time and wiggled his right toes in response.

8 PM Day 7

House had his dinner at 4 pm, after Dr. Golan's visit, so he could actually have time to eat more of it before the dressing change. Tonight they would not use any Versed, in an attempt to see how he would do with additional Toradol for pain and no sedation. He should be able to tolerate the dressing change without tossing his cookies afterward, reasoned Brenda. If the Versed was causing nausea, they'd need to try doing without it. She reasoned that 7 mg an hour of Morphine with an additional booster of Toradol during and after the procedure should be Ok.

Brenda's assessment was correct. The dressing change was done at 7 pm and by 8 pm he was back in his room, none the worse for the wear. He received additional Toradol for pain during and after the procedure. Without the Versed, he had been awake throughout the dressing change and the Toradol made it somewhat bearable. He screamed when he felt the jet of warm water against the raw burns, but after a few moments it became bearable and the additional Toradol given at the time did help.

At 8 PM House was returned to his room, awake and fairly alert although in a fair amount of pain. Brenda gave him an additional Toradol booster and he asked her to give him his cell phone. House was going to check for text messages, and Brenda wondered how he was going to do that with his hands all bandaged up. He surprised her with his dexterity and somehow managed to find a way to start flipping through his text messages without any help from her.

Wilson walked in. As shocked as he was to find House able to handle text messaging on his cell phone, he was even more shocked that the dumb thing was charged at all. House was famous for not ever recharging his cell phone batteries.

While House was reading text messages, something unexpected happened. The thing started ringing. House must have forgotten to change the ringer to vibrate.

Even more unexpected was the fact that House heard it ring. House himself was so shocked at the sound that he almost dropped the thing on the floor. Wilson smiled as House tried to handle the phone call himself.

Suddenly things went south in a hurry. Actually, they went much farther than just "south". Things went to HELL in a hurry.

House started fumbling with the phone and at the same time someone could be heard screaming on the other end of the phone. Obviously House saw the caller ID but couldn't hear the caller, and he was trying to put the phone on "hands free" so Wilson could hear it too and interpret for him. With the dressings on his hands it was difficult enough for him to handle text messaging. He couldn't punch the button for "hands free". Why he didn't just hand the phone to Wilson is something nobody will ever know but that quickly became a moot point.

Wilson could hear the screaming and grabbed the phone from House with the intent of telling the caller to calm down and stop yelling, that Wilson would interpret for House.

Wilson then saw the Caller ID and never got the words out.

Amber was screaming non-stop on the other end of the phone.

"They're booking you for murder, you crazy son of a bitch! I told them you killed Stark and I don't know how many other people you killed before Stark. I tried to save your life and you fired me and had me arrested! You think you're not going to pay for that? I told them you cut him open, that you did his autopsy after you killed him. You did the autopsy so you could cover up your crime. You tried to blame Thirteen for his death. You're busted. I even tried to show them where you buried all the other bodies, but they arrested me before I could show them. I hope you die, you crazy bastard!" Amber was screaming at the top of her lungs.

Wilson ran out of House's room, nearly ran over Blythe on his way out, and pulled out his trusty digital voice recorder to try to record Amber's screaming message.

House started flailing around, wildly stabbing at the nurse's call button and yelling for Wilson to come back. A new nurse answered the intercom, not realizing that House couldn't hear her. "What can I do for you, Mr. House?" "Do you need something, Mr. House?" she kept repeating over the intercom to his room. Brenda, who was in her other patient's room, heard the nurse's voice over the intercom and House's wild yelling for Wilson to come back in. She finished up quickly and ran in to find a scene from The Exorcist in House's room.

Blythe was crouched over House's bed, with his head cradled protectively in her arms. Sheets were all over the floor. His IV had been accidentally pulled out in all of his thrashing trying to use the call button. Tube feeding was leaking all over the bed from where it had accidentally been disconnected while he was trying, apparently, to get out of bed to find Wilson. Blythe caught him as he was trying to climb out of the bed over the raised side rails. She was just in time to prevent a nasty fall to the floor.

House knew Amber had called and was convinced that Wilson was keeping something from him. House was screaming for Wilson to come back. Blythe was trying to soothe him, although she had no idea what had upset him so much. All she knew was her son was hysterical and someone needed to help him. House couldn't hear a thing she said to him and only wanted Wilson back.

Wilson was outside of the ICU calling the police to follow up on what Amber said, and he couldn't hear House.

Brenda made sure House was safe in his bed and she called Dr. Miller. Dr. Miller ordered sedation – the very same Versed that they had earlier been able to avoid. Brenda put in a new IV, gave him the Versed and five minutes later he was sleeping.

Wilson came back in just as the sedation was taking effect. Brenda looked up from her task of cleaning the messes all over the floor, and Wilson said "This is bad. I need to talk with Dr. Golan and Dr. Miller now. We need to talk outside his room."

Blythe followed Brenda out of House's cubicle. Wilson said "The call was from Amber Volakis, one of House's fellows. She's the one they busted outside of his apartment. Amber's insane, but she's accused him of murder in connection with the death of a patient. A detective from the Princeton PD is coming here to interrogate him in connection with the death of Thomas Stark."


	35. Anne's return

Chapter 35

**A/N- to all you nice readers and reviewers out there! Chap. 34 was short because it was building up to something huge here. House's savior nurse, Anne, is back in a big way. Enjoy! Probably won't be able to update again until Monday. Have a good weekend, everyone!**

10 PM Day 7

The fallout from Amber's call was still raining down all around House.

The detective from the Princeton PD showed up to interview him at 9:30 without having received permission from Dr. Miller first. Wilson waited for the guy and caught him before he went in to House's cubicle. House was beginning to stir, but wasn't completely responsive due to the sedation. Wilson called Dr. Miller to let him know about the detective's involvement. The detective agreed to interview Wilson instead and leave House out of it unless it was absolutely necessary to interview House.

In House's cubicle half an hour later, House was having another bad reaction to the Versed. The front of Blythe's pretty blouse and the floor that Brenda had cleaned up earlier were now decorated with beef soup and whatever tube feeding had been in House's stomach.

In House hood, the detective had managed to upset everyone. Contrary to Amber's crazy statements, House wasn't accused of any direct involvement with Stark's death. The detective was there to question House about Amber and Scott Volakis.

The detective told a shocked Household that Scott Volakis and Thomas Stark had been lovers at one time. When House accepted the Stark case, Amber never told him that Thomas and her brother had been lovers, or in fact that they had any history whatsoever. During Scott's many interrogations, he admitted that he and Thomas took that overseas trip together; during that trip, Thomas Stark contracted the strongyloides worm infestation. Scott knew that his lover was getting sicker very quickly, but both attributed his declining health to his existing chronic illness. Scott kept his lover at home as his health declined rather than have him admitted to the hospital. Apparently Scott had been stealing Thomas' disability checks for some time. Thomas discovered what Scott had been doing and kicked Scott out of his home. Scott had nowhere else to go, and Amber took him in, knowing full well what he had been accused of. Scott and Amber both had been suspected of stalking Thomas Stark after that. Thomas had an order of protection issued against Scott, which Amber knew about. House wasn't accused of any direct involvement in Stark's death. The allegation was that House knew Amber and Scott were wanted in connection with several stalking incidents involving an unknown complainant, and that House had been protecting Amber by not turning her in. The unknown complainant later turned out to be Stark.

Wilson exclaimed "You have no idea how ridiculous that is. House never even knew she had a brother, for God's sake."

Kutner stated "The only way he would have known Amber had any kind of personal trouble would be if that personal trouble showed up in his office with a bottle of Maker's Mark in one hand and a hundred dollars cash in the other. House could not possibly have known Amber had a brother or that she was involved in any kind of shady activity." Thirteen, who had said nothing for fear of being forced to admit her part in Stark's death, reluctantly began talking.

"Dr. House tries to stay out of our personal lives." At that, a few eyebrows went up in the room, but the detective didn't seem to catch on. Everyone knew House loved to meddle in other peoples' personal affairs, usually in a clumsy but well-intentioned effort to help those other people. "He went so far as to assign us numbers so he wouldn't have to learn our names. He stopped calling Amber by her number but started calling her by another name. " she said. "He had no idea she had a brother and no clue that she was in trouble."

The detective closed his interview by saying "So do you deny the allegation that Dr. House knew Amber Volakis and her brother Scott were accused of stalking Thomas Stark, and that Dr. House protected Amber by keeping this information from the authorities?"

YES came the resounding answer from everyone present in the room.

"Thank you. I'm concluding my investigation of Dr. House. He is not charged with anything and I see no reason for further interrogation in this matter. Scott Volakis is still being held in connection with the attempted assault on Dr. House, and as such we will probably be back to talk with Dr. House about that. Amber Volakis is being held for psychiatric evaluation in connection with the attempted break in and her statements at the scene. At this point, I can't tell you anything about potential release dates for either of them because I just don't know. We'll be in touch. My sincere apologies for any problems this interrogation may have caused." With that, the detective left.

Cuddy said quietly, "What do we tell House? We have to tell him something. He knows Amber called."

Wilson said "Yeah, right. We do have to tell him something. What that will be, however, I have no idea."

12 Midnight, Day 7

Wilson, who still had House's phone and had been sleeping in the recliner next to House's bed, was awakened when a rather well-aimed throw resulted in a box of Kleenex tissues hitting him square in the solar plexus. .

"What the hell…ooohhh……House, what do you need?" _Ok, stupid question. He's staring holes in my head._

"House, what do you need?" Wilson typed on his laptop.

"Give me my phone back. What did Amber say?" House asked.

"I don't know how to tell you this." Wilson hesitantly typed.

"That never stopped you before."

"House, please don't obsess over this. You're not being blamed for anything. Amber's insane." Wilson typed.

House thought _Blamed for what? Obsess over what? And yes, I know she's a cut throat bitch but she's not insane._

Wilson went on typing "Amber's in jail along with her brother."

House said "Wilson, quit pussyfooting around. I need my phone. WHAT DID AMBER SAY?"

Wilson typed "House, please don't worry about this. There's nothing you can do about it."

House shouted: "WILSON, DAMMIT, SHE CALLED ME. YOU RIPPED MY PHONE OUT OF MY HANDS WHILE I WAS TRYING TO PUT IT ON HANDS FREE, AND YOU RAN OUT OF MY ROOM. WHATEVER SHE SAID, YOU THOUGHT I COULDN'T HANDLE IT. YOU TALKED ABOUT ME BEHIND MY BACK. HELL YOU EVEN CALLED THE POLICE. GIVE ME THE GOD DAMN PHONE BACK AND TELL ME WHAT SHE SAID. I DESERVE TO KNOW. I'M NOT A CHILD. STOP TREATING ME LIKE ONE."

"House, I don't want to have to tell you this because you're already depressed enough. I'm not sure you can handle this."

"STOP TELLING ME WHAT I CAN AND CAN'T HANDLE!" House screamed.

"YOU'RE NOT PROTECTING ME. YOU'RE TAKING ADVANTAGE OF ME AND I'M SICK OF IT! I CAN'T HEAR THE DAMN PHONE. THAT DOESN'T MEAN I'M AN IDIOT. HERE, GIVE ME THE PHONE" and House made a lunge for it "AND I'LL TEXT AMBER MYSELF AND FIND OUT."

"House, they confiscated her cell phone after she called here. They didn't know she still had her cell phone. You can't text her." Wilson typed.

"Well, Ok, I'll tell you. You know Amber responded to your page initially. She's the one who did CPR on you and called the code. She waited a little while before she called the code." Wilson paused in the middle of typing this message, and looked at House. A glimmer of understanding appeared in House's eyes, followed by shock and hurt. "She waited? Why would she do that…?" House asked. _SHE wanted me dead too. I wasn't the only one._

"She knew she screwed up by not calling the code sooner than she did. I think she assumed that you died." _'Hoped' is probably more like it, _House thought.

"She also assumed that she had been fired, and that she was in trouble with the law. When she found out that you survived, she made up some big story that you had killed Thomas Stark and a bunch of patients before that. She was caught trying to break into your place. The neighbors called the cops. Amber told the cops that she tried to break in to your place to uncover the supposed evidence of all these murders you allegedly committed. They didn't believe her, but there's a lot more to the story. She's being held for psychiatric evaluation. Are you sure you can handle the rest of the story?"

"SHUT UP AND GET ON WITH IT" was the reply from the bed.

Wilson swallowed and started typing again. "Do you remember that crazy x ray tech who tried to hit you with the x ray plate?" House nodded _Yes_.

"That was Amber's brother Scott. Scott Volakis and your patient Thomas Stark were lovers at one time. Scott knew Stark was getting sicker and didn't get him in to see you soon enough. Scott had been stealing Stark's disability checks. Stark found out and kicked Scott out of the house. Scott had nowhere else to go, and Amber took him in. Amber knew Scott had been stealing Thomas Stark's checks. Scott had been stalking Mr. Stark for some time after Stark kicked him out of the house. When you took Stark's case, Scott was still stalking him and stealing from him. Scott was living with Amber and Amber didn't tell you or anyone else any of this."

Wilson stopped typing to look at House. He'd know, from House's reaction to the story so far, how much farther he could go with it. House's face was unreadable.

"When she called you, and I grabbed the phone, she obviously thought she was talking to you. She was screaming that you killed Stark, that you killed a bunch of other people too, that the evidence of your alleged crimes was at your property, and that she wished you were dead. House, the Princeton PD showed up here tonight because they thought you knew all about Scott stealing Thomas Stark's disability checks and the stalking. They thought you were in collusion with Amber, harboring Amber and keeping these details from the police. Obviously that's ridiculous – you didn't even know she had a brother. We told the detective that, and he's not investigating you any more."

House took a deep breath and growled "Wilson, I'm not a God damned fool. Do you want to know why I freaked out when you ran out of the room? I was angry! Don't talk about me behind my back and hide things from me! Stop protecting me. I'm not a fool, and I'm not a blithering idiot. I just can't hear that well. I can handle my own affairs."

House said, "And I'm telling you this. I don't want you or Cuddy taking any calls for me. I'm arranging for calls to and from my cell phone to be routed through a TTY service and my laptop, so I can handle them myself. I'll see you tomorrow, and please ask my mom to come back in."

His night shift savior, Anne, had heard the raised voice and came in after Wilson left, to see if she was needed. _This guy is unbelievable, _Anne thought. _He calls himself Dr. House's friend, but a friend would not be this underhanded even if it was a poor attempt to protect him. A friend wouldn't take another friend's phone away in the middle of a call. He should have waited for House to acknowledge he needed help with the call. _

Anne said and wrote "Heard you ripped him a new one."

House looked at her and said "I'm sick of being babied. I just want everyone to leave me alone. I don't know if they really WANT to help or if they're here for some other reason. I just don't have the desire or the energy to try to figure out why they're here. I want everyone to leave me alone; everyone except you that is. You can stay."

Anne said and wrote "Dr. House, how's the IPod working out for you?"

It had been set up as therapy for him, but this is the first time anyone bothered to ask him how it was working out for him. Wilson had turned it on for him and set it to play the songs in his playlist after he got back from the dressing change. Nobody bothered to ask House how well he could hear the songs, if they were songs he liked, if he wanted some other songs, or any of that. Wilson didn't even ask him if he wanted the IPod on. Wilson just turned it on anyway. House couldn't push the buttons on the IPod well enough to turn it off, so he was forced to lie there while it played whether he wanted to or not. House didn't say anything to Wilson about it. He figured _it won't matter anyway. Wilson, the great Do Gooder, thinks he knows what's best for me anyway. What I think doesn't seem to matter. Let the IPod play away. I can't hear all of it, so maybe I can just learn to ignore what I can hear of it._

"I don't know" answered House.

"I think it was pretty cool of Wilson to come up with that idea," Anne said and typed.

"Doesn't matter" replied House.

Anne noticed the downcast eyes, the lack of snark, the lack of any kind of emotion, the flat affect evident on his face.

Anne said and wrote, "Dr. House, you don't have to talk if you don't want to but do you mind if I do?" _Nobody's ever asked me if *I* mind if *they* talk. She's giving me permission not to say anything, and asking me if I mind if she does all the talking. Wow… usually conversations are boring, but she's not boring. Might be worth a listen_ House thought.

"Nope" was the one word answer.

Anne drew the curtains around his bed and closed the sliding glass door to his cubicle.

"Dr House, has anyone ever told you they know what you're going through?" she typed on his laptop.

He looked at her quizzically. _No. Where is she going with this?_

He said "No. Thought I wasn't going to have to talk."

She smiled. She typed "Look at my right arm."

She took off her scrub jacket.

A small, thin, linear scar was evident on the right forearm, and another identical scar was evident on the right wrist about 5 inches distal to the first scar.

Between the two scars were several small raised areas and numerous healed needle stick sites. Two bandaids were visible, covering fresh needle stick sites that hadn't healed yet. The doctor in him began to resurface. House knew instantly what this meant.

"How long?" he asked.

"Nope, you don't get to talk for awhile. It's still my turn", Anne said gently and typed.

"Now look at my left arm."

Two long, jagged, nasty looking scars were visible on her wrist. The doctor in him was just BEGGING to say something, but he did as she suggested. He silently looked at her to see where she was going next with this.

"Ready for more?" she said and typed. House looked at her with intense curiosity but said nothing. She read him like a book and typed "Look at my right leg."

She rolled up her right pant leg and he instantly saw the below-the-knee prosthesis.

"Now look at my stomach" she said and typed.

She pulled her scrub shirt up a few inches. A small black box was strapped on to a belt around her middle. Attached to the little black box was a thin line of IV tubing. At the end of the tubing, a very small needle had been inserted under her skin and was taped in place securely. House immediately recognized the insulin pump.

Anne stared straight into him and said and typed "Now, am I qualified to tell you that I know what you're going through?" and smiled a genuine smile.

House was, for the first time in his life, speechless. With tear-filled eyes wide open, he looked at her and said "Yes."

"Can I do something to make you more comfortable? Do you need to move? Do you need more pain medication?" Anne typed.

_God, for once someone's asking me what I need and actually waiting for an answer instead of just doing whatever *they* think is right._ "Well, I could turn on my side, but otherwise I think I might be alright for awhile." House said.

Anne gently helped him get off his back and turn on to his side. Then she moved a chair over to the same side of his bed, facing him.

Blythe showed up and quietly tapped on the door to ask permission to enter. Anne excused herself for a moment and walked over to Blythe.

"Hi, Mrs. House. We're having a great conversation over here. I'd rather keep talking to him privately if you don't mind, at least this once. I have no secrets from you. It's just that he needs to hear this from me and he seems to want to hear it too. It's quiet in the unit now and my other patient doesn't need me at this time, so I'm going to have a little therapeutic conversation with him. I think he and I need to talk privately at first. Either he or I will let you know when it's open pool time and you can come in. Would that be ok with you?" Blythe was really impressed that someone would actually ask that question. "Of course, that's fine! Wilson told me that he asked for me. Please tell him I'm here. No, I don't mind waiting outside until you're done."

Anne went back to House's side and sat down. "Still in the mood to let me do all the talking?" she said and typed.

House nodded.

"I've been an insulin-dependent diabetic since I was a little child. Ten years ago, when I was 19, my kidneys failed as a result of the diabetes. You're probably thinking, _boring, boring, boring, _right?" House laughed gently, in a polite manner, not meant to mock her. "Go on," he said.

"Nope, you still gotta let me do all the talking. I didn't show you several other scars. They're below my belt line. Nobody gets to home plate except my husband, so you'll just have to trust me. I have scars there that you will not see." she smiled and typed.

"I went on dialysis at age 19 when my kidneys failed." _The reason for the scars and needle marks on her right arm. She has a fistula for kidney dialysis _House realized.

"I got my first living related donor kidney transplant at age 20. My mom was a perfect match. She gave me a kidney. Everything was fine for a few months.

On my 21st birthday I started drinking legally. I had been downing the booze illegally for some time before that. My mom's donated kidney" (Anne patted her lower abdomen to show where the donor kidney was implanted) "failed because I was drinking too much, and not taking my medications. My mistakes caused my mother's donated kidney to fail. About eight months after the first transplant, the kidney failed for good and that is when these scars happened." Anne pointed to the scars on her left wrist. "I saw the same scars on your arm, Dr. House, so I know that you know what mine are from. I was locked up here in the loony bin for 3 months. I not only tried to actually kill myself with razor blades, I continued to threaten to kill myself numerous times while I was locked up in the loony bin. I was back on dialysis because the donated kidney failed, and every time they took me out of the psych ward to the dialysis treatment room, after they put the needles in for my dialysis, I used to pray that the needles would come out and I would just bleed to death. It wasn't the dialysis or the kidney failure that bothered me. It was knowing that I killed my mother's donated kidney. Most of the time they had to tie my hands down during dialysis, because if I'd had my hands free, I would have followed through on my desire to let myself bleed to death. I could not live with the failure."

Anne sat back and took a good long look at House, to gauge how tired he was and if he was ready to hear more. She'd have bet a hundred bucks that House had never been so quiet and so attentive to someone else in his life. _He's ready for the rest of it_, she thought.

"They put me on mood stabilizers and I had psychotherapy. It worked for awhile. I got discharged from the hospital and for awhile, everything was fine. I even went to college – the college of nursing at Princeton – and got good grades, all while doing my own dialysis treatments at home six nights a week. Then I met a guy and things got serious. He got to home plate one time. Unfortunately that meant he saw the transplant scar, which of course he had to ask about, and then he saw the fistula in my right arm and the razor slashes in my left arm. Oh, and then, of course, there's the lovely sight of a dialysis machine sitting next to the bed in my bedroom. I never saw him after that night.

Not a year had passed after my first suicide attempt when I tried it again by drinking Drano. My college roommate found me. The hospital reversed the effects of that and again I got sent to the psych ward. This time they didn't lock me up. They might as well have done that. The first time the nurse took me down for my dialysis, I got my dialysis treatment and walked out of the hospital afterward."

Anne stopped writing for awhile. House was starting to fall asleep. As soon as she stopped talking and typing, though, House opened his eyes and said "Keep talking. It's Ok. I'm tired, but don't stop."

"Ok" she typed. "I found another psychiatrist and managed to stay in school. I have no idea how I did that, but I did. At 23 I got my first nursing job. But I couldn't work full time. I was 23 freakin' years old, and too tired from dialysis to work full time. But I had to work full time or I wouldn't be eligible for any benefits, which I needed big time. So I worked full time, came home and dialyzed six nights a week, with no energy and no time for a life. At 24 I started noticing my right foot kept going numb or feeling like knives were digging into it constantly. At first it was just in the foot, but as time went by it moved up my leg. Diabetic neuropathy. Nothing they tried worked. I know you've tried gabapentin for pain relief before, haven't you?" House nodded and smiled because he knew what she was going to say next. "Works great, doesn't it? Or at least that's what everyone told me. It didn't do shit for me. My leg was numb and hurting all at the same time. How's that for irony? Is that what happened to you after they started you on gabapentin?" House nodded enthusiastically. He was too tired to talk by now but didn't want this to end tonight.

"Nobody believed me that the gabapentin wasn't working. I think it was dialyzing off during my dialysis treatments. Anyway, I had to find something that wouldn't dialyze off. I was desperate. Pain makes you do desperate things, doesn't it? I found my mom's Vicodin prescription that they gave her after she donated her kidney to me. She hadn't taken any of it. Oh my God, it was wonderful. I finally had enough pain relief that I could work full time and not look like a broken down cripple while I was doing it," Anne typed.

House just guffawed at that. _Someone, finally, who understands!_

"Best thing is, Mom still had three refills left on that prescription. Ok, that was fine until the refills were all used up. I went back to my so called pain management doctor and told her my Mom's Vicodin worked great, and oh, could I please have more? You can guess what she said." House nodded. "Yeah, she said I should not get hooked on that stuff. She tried me on a TENS unit," House shuddered at that. He'd tried TENS too, and had the same result he suspected she was about to write. "which of course was completely ineffective. So she put me on high dose Ibuprofen along with the TENS. Of course that really helped a whole lot" she typed and said sarcastically. House knew that emotion well. He could practically see the sarcasm dripping off her fingers onto the keyboard as she typed. "So we went to Tylenol with codeine. You know, the stuff they give you for toothaches. I've noticed that the people who seem to think that toothache pain and neuropathy pain are even remotely similar in nature are the doctors who just act like it's all in our head anyway and we should just shake it off or something." Anne typed with anger.

House, nodding his head, smiling, and holding his bandaged hands up in the air, said "Amen, sista."

"By the time they finally agreed with me that narcotics were required, it was too late to save the leg. The fact that they couldn't restore my circulation wasn't their fault. That's a risk with my kind of diabetes. But the lack of support when I found something fairly early on that helped with the pain was their fault. When it finally got to the point of no return, I was BEGGING them to cut it off. I know you wanted them to save your leg. Good for you. My experience was quite the opposite. I couldn't wait for them to cut it off. Nothing was helping the pain anyway. I know you've been living with your pain a lot longer than I had to live with mine. I never wanted to party so badly as the day I woke up after the amputation and most of the pain I'd been living with for so long was gone."

House was staring intently at her. Anne took a few moments to look just as intently into his eyes, and let sink into House's head what she had just typed.

"I'm not even coming close to suggesting you have it amputated. I just want you to know I really do know what you're going through. Sometimes it just helps to know someone else believes you, knows exactly what you're going through, and doesn't think you're crazy. We have a lot more to talk about, but I'm gonna let you sleep now. Your mom wants to come in. You had a big day. I'm here until 7 am. I didn't want to tell you this before because it wouldn't have made sense to you until now. My supervisor specifically asked me to be your nurse every night that I'm on duty. We're starting a new program in the ICU where the primary ICU nurse follows the patient throughout their entire stay in the hospital, even after they're moved out of the ICU. We stick with you until you're discharged from the hospital and we are even looking into some way to supervise at-home care after discharge. You're stuck with me. Don't give me any lip, and I'll see ya later" she said, typed, and smiled.

For the first time in years, House felt like all of his burdens had been lifted from him. He wasn't sure how long it was going to last, but finding someone who really knew what he was going through was a kind of blessing he had never before had in his life until now.

Blythe came quietly into his room after Anne stepped out. Words were not necessary. House was sound asleep and Blythe thought it had been years since she'd seen him that relaxed.


	36. Nobody cares

Chapter 36

**A/N – pardon me for the pop culture reference to Colonel Steve Austin, the Six Million Dollar (bionic) Man. That's another show I was always crazy about, and may consider doing some fanfiction about later on. On with the show…**

Day 8, morning

Big Bad Voodoo Daddy's "Zig Zaggity Woop Woop" was playing on his IPod. When the trumpets kicked in, House was shocked to find he could hear the horns almost perfectly. The ringing in his ears was almost gone, but it was still bothersome enough that when the vocal part started, he couldn't differentiate one word from another very well. It was when the next song started playing, Big Bad Voodoo Daddy's "You know you wrong", and that big badass piano part started, that House confirmed with himself that his hearing was actually improving. Unfortunately, that would mean more intensive sessions with Dr. Golan. He knew that Dr. Golan was probably just waiting for his hearing to improve to pounce on House and start trying to force stuff out of him that he didn't want to talk about. _How long can I continue faking him out?_

_Oh, and here comes the devil now_. House uttered no greeting as he saw Dr. Golan coming in to his cubicle.

"Good morning, Dr. House. How was your night?" Dr Golan said, having forgotten for the moment to type his response.

"Fine" House blurted without thinking. _BUSTED- I must be losing it if I can't fake this guy out_ thought House. _Must be the morphine._

Golan was momentarily taken aback by the immediate reply. "Great! You can hear me! Good deal. Are you still having trouble hearing me clearly?" Golan said and typed.

House just looked at the wall and said nothing.

"House, not replying to me is just like begging me to stay longer. You can't ignore me and hope I'll go away. I don't work like that. And I'm not just going to sit here silently watching you stare a hole in the wall. Your not responding to me is, in and of itself, a response anyway. Body language often says more than words." Golan said and typed.

No verbal response from House, but the body language was practically shouting. House looked everywhere else except at Golan.

"House, we need to talk. You tried to kill yourself. I can't ignore that." Golan said and typed.

_No I didn't._ House wouldn't even look at the laptop, but he heard Golan well enough.

"House, this isn't the first time you tried to kill yourself, is it?" Golan said and typed.

House clamped his eyes shut. _How long is this idiot going to keep this up?_

"I can out-wait you. When I ask a question, if you don't respond, I'm going to take your silence as a 'yes'. I told you, I'm not going away." Golan said and typed.

_Wanna bet?_ thought House.

"I can understand why you're depressed" _No you can't_

"and not responding is a symptom of depression." _I know that_

"We need to treat your depression." Golan said and typed.

_How? You gonna take my pain away? Wave your magic wand? Guess I'm gonna hear the word "SSRI" in a minute._

"I'm going to start you on an anti-depressant; an SSRI." _Bingo, there's the million dollar word. Too bad it's not what I need._ That prompted a sharp glare from House.

"Yep, I know you can hear me. This isn't going to be a quick fix, but if you'll take it, it'll help." _Yeah, like THAT's ever gonna happen. _

"House, please talk to me." _Send in the next condolence call. I'm done with this one._

House was getting visibly angrier and angrier, and still trying everything in his power to avoid looking at Golan..

Golan started moving around the bed trying to stay in House's field of vision. "You're angry" _NO SHIT, FOOL!_ "and that's good. I'm not going anywhere until you say something."

House looked resignedly at Golan and said "You can't help me and you're pissing me off. Go," and resumed staring a hole in the wall.

Golan stepped back and quieted his voice. "House, what makes you think I can't help you?" he said and typed.

"You said you couldn't go anywhere until I said something. Fine. I've said something. Now go anywhere. Anywhere else but here, that is. I have nothing to say that you would find diagnostically relevant." House said.

"Actually, I find everything you say and do to be diagnostically relevant. Especially everything you don't say," Golan said and typed.

_Ok, so the 'silence' smokescreen isn't working. Let's try plan B._

"What?" House said.

"House, what makes you think I can't help you?" Golan said.

"Didn't hear you," House replied. _Let's see how long before this tactic gets shot to hell._

"Yes you did." Golan said and typed. "What makes you think I can't help you?"

Silence.

"House, what makes you think your life isn't worth anything?" Golan said and typed.

House had had enough, and finally lost it. "Listen, you idiot!" Golan ignored the name-calling. "You've known me for what, all of a few days, and you think you can just barge your way in here and tell me how you think I've screwed up? Of course you assume that I screwed something up. Hell, that's always the talk around the PPTH water cooler these days. What else has House screwed up? You know what, I'm done. Get out."

"I never said you screwed up anything. You're angry. You said I assumed that you screwed up. What did I say that made you think that?"

Silence.

"House, what did I say that made you think I accused you of screwing up?"

"You didn't need to SAY anything. But you did say that I tried to kill myself. I take that as an accusation that I screwed up."

"House, most people would look at 'sticking a knife into a wall outlet' as a suicide attempt." Golan said and typed.

"Most people don't know me, and those who think they do really don't. Nobody knows what it's like to be me. They wouldn't want to even if I tried to explain it to them." House muttered.

Golan hesitated. He was on to something, and he didn't want to let House start deflecting or revert back to silence.

"You said nobody knows what it's like to be you. Tell me." Golan said gently. He specifically didn't type it.

Silence ensued for a few moments. Golan was afraid House would shut down completely, so he was afraid to put any more pressure on House. After a few agonizing moments, House began to mutter softly.

"Just please promise me you'll listen because I'll probably never say this again. Hell, I can't believe I'm saying it now but I kind of can't help it so here goes. Nobody gives a damn about me. Just please, nobody gives a damn. I suffer in this body every damn day and nobody else cares. Actually, yes, they do care. They care if I report to work every day. They care if I do my damn clinic duty. They care if I don't piss any patients off. That's all though. They care about what I do while I'm here at work and that's all. Nobody gives a damn about anything else."

Golan just listened.

House, eyes still down and still muttering softly, continued. "Everybody thinks I'm emotionally stunted, that I act like a child. When I rest in my office, everyone assumes it's because I'm trying to avoid because I don't like dealing with patients. When I catch a nap somewhere, everyone thinks, oh hell, I shouldn't even care what they think but they think I'm trying to avoid being with patients. When I snap at someone who says or does something stupid, I have to defend myself to all these people who say they care but really don't. As long as my "save" rate is high enough, nobody gives a damn why I say or do anything I do and certainly nobody gives a damn what happens to me after I leave here. I could burn up in a bike wreck leaving this hospital, and a week after the funeral, nobody would even remember me."

Golan listened for a moment, to give House a chance to continue. House seemed like he was finished at least for a moment. Not wanting to cut House off or give him a chance to revert back to silence, Golan said "When you say 'everyone', who are you referring to?"

House remained silent for a moment, eyes down, and replied "I don't know. I guess Wilson and Cuddy."

Golan said "What about your mom?"

House, still avoiding Golan's gaze like the plague, muttered "I don't know. She's getting up there in age and I'm just a burden to her anyway. Who wants a 47 year old burden hanging around."

Time to try a different tactic. "How bad is your pain on a routine basis? I don't want a number on a scale or anything. I want to know what it feels like. I hear you're the metaphor king. If you can think of a metaphor that would help me understand your pain, tell me." Golan said and typed.

House said "That's just exactly it. Nobody ever wants to know. Nobody's ever asked me, and the one or two times I've really tried to explain it, they don't want to listen. They tell me every damn reason in the world why they think I'm addicted to Vicodin EXCEPT the only one that matters. I'm in pain, and the Vicodin actually doesn't even relieve it but it's the only thing that comes close. But again, nobody wants to hear that. They've made that abundantly clear. So I take the pills because I have no choice and I feel like a complete social outcast because of it."

Golan said and typed "So if I understand you correctly, everyone treats you like an outcast because you take Vicodin, and you've tried to explain how much pain you're in, and nobody wants to listen."

House said "Yes."

"Do you think they treat you like an outcast because you're in pain, or because you take Vicodin?"

House thought about that. "They have no idea how much pain I'm in, so I have no idea which one they think is worse."

Golan said "Tell me how much pain you're in."

"Pretend you're hitchhiking on the shoulder of a highway. Then say an eighteen wheeler truck driver slams on his breaks, jackknifes his truck, and winds up with his front wheels right on your right leg. Then he puts it in park and walks away, taking the keys. Now pretend all the other traffic just swerves around you and keeps on going. You're screaming, screaming, and finally you're just screamed out, and all you can do is lay there and take the pain because he's not gonna ever move that damn truck off your leg. Almost everyone just drives on by like they don't even care you're laying there. Some folks look at you with pity, but still they don't do anything. They just rubberneck and then drive on past. A few people, Wilson and Cuddy for example, stop by and tell you to take some damn aspirin and shut up and quit whining about it. They take their damn time calling the paramedics because they think you must have done something stupid and now you deserve to suffer. The paramedics come and give you some morphine, but it isn't enough, and they tell you they can't give you any more because they're afraid you'll get 'hooked' on it. Now do you have some idea what I go through every single day?"

Golan said "So Cuddy and Wilson don't value your pain?"

House, for the first time raising his eyes to look at Golan, said "Pain has no value. Certainly my pain doesn't. Or at least it doesn't seem to."

Golan said "Do you think that because your pain has no value, that means you have no value either?"

House didn't reply, but he was clearly in thought and not ignoring Golan.

Golan said "I think we've had enough for now. Do you need to tell me anything before I leave? Oh and yes, I am coming back."

House didn't reply, but he was still looking at Golan. It was clear to Golan that House had heard him.

"Ok, we have a long way to go and I appreciate what you've told me so far. I'll see you later today. Bye, Dr. House."

Day 8, 11 am

Cuddy was with House. He was staring at the walls again. Cuddy wasn't sure if he was lost in thought or angry about something, and was afraid to venture a guess. She just looked at him.

House was growing very uncomfortable under her gaze. Finally, when he could stand it no longer, he said "I guess you heard Golan Heights was in here again this morning." He never looked at her.

"No," she lied.

"See, I can't even trust you to tell me the truth." There was no ire in his words, no snark, no nothing. They were just expressionless words coming from an expressionless man.

"House, whatever goes on between you and Dr. Golan is exactly that – it's between you and him. I'm glad you're talking to him," she said and typed.

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry I brought it up. Please drop it."

"Ok. You ready for PT today?" Cuddy asked him, without typing. "Nope" was the reply, with a hint of his old snark. It was all Cuddy could do to suppress a little smile. "Too bad. They're here."

A tall, solidly built man with sandy brown hair walked in to House's cubicle.

"Dr. House, my name is Gary. I'm your physical therapist. I know you're gonna love me. Before you start loving me, do you mind if we discuss the plan?" Greg typed. House did not reply. "I do have a plan of care developed already. Normally with patients that haven't had any experience with physical therapy before, I tell them what the plan is and then we proceed. In your case, I know about the prior physical therapy, so I'd like to approach it differently with you. I'll show you the plan of care we've worked out, and you can suggest changes where you see fit," Gary typed.

"First of all, Gary, I can hear a little so you can talk. I'm not completely deaf. But I do appreciate having some input," House retorted.

"Ok, Dr. House. Here are my ideas.

First, we need to start off with pretty aggressive active range of motion exercises for your shoulders and elbows, areas that aren't burned so badly."

"For both wrists, we'll do passive range of motion."

"I'm going to hold off on range of motion exercises for your fingers until Dr. Miller gives us the Ok to go ahead with that."

"For your left leg we also need to get started with aggressive active range of motion exercises."

"For your right leg" and House shuddered (and looked like he was ready to pounce on Gary like a tiger) "hey, hold off, I'm aware of the situation with your right leg. I'm not a moron," Gary said while smiling. "I don't want YOU killing ME. I know your range of motion is already pretty limited in your right hip, isn't it?" Gary said and typed.

House said "Yes, but I could still walk on it before I screwed up this last time."

Gary said "And there's no reason to think that will change. All this time lying in bed has probably atrophied the remaining muscles at least a little bit. So what I was going to say is that I think we need to do active and aggressive range of motion exercises with your right toes, ankle and knee, to preserve the normal strength you have in those joints. With gentle support under your right thigh, you should be able to do the knee, ankle and toe range of motion exercises. I'll let you dictate what we should do with your right hip."

"How does that sound to you, Dr. House?" Gary said and typed.

"Nobody ever asked me before. I guess it's ok." House seemed completely stunned, and at a loss for words, considering that his prior experience with PT consisted of people just dictating to him what he should and should not do, without regard to what he thought. Nobody had ever asked him for his input before. He thought of the times Wilson had commented about the fact that he stopped physical therapy too soon. Again, Wilson never wanted to hear why. During his initial physical therapy after the leg surgery, the plan of care had been dictated to him and then he had been asked to agree to it, and was never given a chance to suggest where things could be changed. So yes, this time, he was truly at a loss for words and caught completely by surprise that a physical therapist would consider what he had to say.

"Ok, we'll start with short sessions now. I'll start with the shoulders and elbows, then move on to the wrists. I'll give you a break after each set and another break after we're done with the wrists. I'll do your left leg after that, then the right. Sound Ok?" Gary said and typed.

"Guess so. Let's get on with it," House said stoically.

"I know you're on morphine but this is still going to hurt. This isn't the time to be stoic about it. I need you to tell me when it hurts too much because that's how I'll know the limit of your range of motion right now. Don't let me push you beyond your limit. Please tell me when you want me to give you a break, and I will." Gary said and typed.

Again, House was at a complete loss for words. _Most of the time, they just want you to shut up and do it. _

"Ok, left shoulder first. As I push down on your shoulder, shrug your shoulder up against my hand as hard as you can. Push up against my hand." Gary was testing to see how much resistance House's shoulder muscles could provide. No problem there. "Good. Now shrug that shoulder five times. I'm not going to push against it. Just shrug it five times," Gary said and typed. No problem. "Ok, take a ten second break then do another five times. We're just going to do two reps for now." House was able to do the second rep, but he could already feel the burn in muscles that were suffering from disuse.

"Ok, good." Gary said. "If I asked you to do a third rep, would you be able to? I don't want you to do the rep. I just want you to answer yes or no."

House hesitated, and Gary picked up on the hesitation right away. "Dr. House, I need an answer. Yes or no."

"No" was the softly muttered reply, as if he was ashamed.

"Dr. House, this is nothing to be ashamed of. It's just a test of your limits, so I know what your baseline is." Gary said and typed.

"Left elbow next. I'm going to gently hold your left forearm down on the bed. I want you to push up against my hand as hard as you can." No problem. "Good. Now please bend your elbow and raise your left forearm up off the bed. Do it five times in a row, then take a thirty second break. Do another repetition of five then stop." House complied. After another break, Gary asked "If I asked you to, could you do a third rep? Remember, I don't want you to do the rep. Just answer yes or no."

"No." No hesitation there. "Good, that's what I needed to know. Not too bad yet, is it?" Gary said. He didn't type it, and House heard him.

"You said 'yet'," House shot back.

"Busted. Yep. It's gonna get worse. You need to tell me when it does."

"For the left wrist, don't move it. Relax and let me do all the moving. Let the muscles go limp. Pretend you're that idiot from OT that I heard you like so much." House cracked a smile. "You'd love that," House snarked back.

"Alright, here we go." Gary said. Gary held House's wrist and gently moved it up and down five times, then clockwise five times, and counter clockwise five times. He gave House a thirty second break, and repeated the set. The burned tissue was definitely hurting, but since Gary was just holding his wrist and not putting too much pressure on the dressings on his hands, it wasn't unbearable.

"Dr. House, I see the pain on your face. Do you need me to stop?" Gary said and typed.

"It hurts but it's not unbearable. Keep going," was the quick reply.

"Well, I'm done with your left arm. We're going to do the same progression on your right arm. You use your cane in your right hand, correct?" Gary said and typed.

"Yes" was the reply.

"All of the muscles in your right arm and shoulder are a lot more developed than those on your left, so we need to preserve that. They're already starting to atrophy a little from disuse. I'm going to push your right arm more than your left, but not now. Just expect that in further sessions, we'll probably use heavier weights on your right arm, to preserve your existing strength there and maybe even make your right arm and shoulder a little stronger than they already are. You know, beef you up a little. Give you the Steve Austin look, you know, the Six Million Dollar Man's shoulder."

Bad 70's pop culture reference aside, Gary's stock just went up a thousand points in House's eyes.

As Gary suspected, the musculature in House's right shoulder and throughout his right arm was much more enhanced than in his left arm. The strapezius muscle, even though atrophied just a little, rippled under Gary's hand when Gary tested House's shoulder muscle strength.

As they progressed with the same exercises and the same number of reps down House's right arm, the toll on House became obvious.

House was able to get through all the exercises and reps, but when it came time for his left leg, he could take no more. "Stop" was the only word he needed to say. Eyes closed, his breathing became a little heavier. He had started the physical therapy session breathing just room air, but by now was back using the face mask again.

Gary said "Can you hear me?"

"Yes, not clearly, but yes," replied House.

"Do I need to get the nurse?"

"No, I'm just tired," muttered House as he opened his eyes again.

"Ok, thanks for telling me. That's fine. It's actually more than I thought we'd get done this first time. You can repeat the reps later on today if you want but remember I'm coming back later this afternoon to do your legs, so don't overdo it." Gary said and typed. "Get some sleep, and I'll see you later."


	37. Comrades

Chapter 37

**A/N – Thanks for hanging in there with me everyone! I hope you find the story as interesting to read as I did to write. We're nearing the end. According to my outline, we should go another three or four chapters. As usual, I own none of the show's characters and am just writing this for fun, not profit.**

Day 8, afternoon

House was shocked by how much a 30 minute physical therapy session, during which he didn't exert much effort, wore him out. He was so worn out that he started having a little trouble breathing and had to back on the oxygen face mask again. He had no energy left for anything today, but the day was just getting started. Lynne, his day shift nurse, commiserated with him, but there were more therapy visits and several doctor visits left to get through today, and he wasn't going to get to sleep much. Not known for being particularly easy going even when he wasn't hurting and tired, House's mood was growing exponentially fouler as the afternoon dragged on.

Paul the occupational therapy aide, whom House had renamed Mr. Perky, came in to evaluate how well House was able to use the adapted eating utensils. One minute later, as the utensils sailed by his head, Mr. Perky figured they must be working well enough and made his quick exit from the room.

Not 15 minutes after Paul's exit from the scene, Allen (House's occupational therapist) came in for his evaluation and to present his plan of care. He had knocked on House's closed glass door, and received no response. House appeared to be asleep. Unfortunately Allen's visit could not be rescheduled. He didn't like having to wake House up any more than he himself would like to be awakened from sleep, but he had no choice.

House was determined to end Allen's visit the same way he ended Paul's visit, but Allen was just as determined to complete his evaluation and initial therapy session as House was to avoid it.

"Dr. House, my name is Allen. I'm your occupational therapist. Are you awake?" Allen asked, not wanting to startle House. There was no reply from the bed. Allen gently touched his right toes and House shot awake with an angry glare.

"Dr. House, I'm sorry for having to wake you up and I'm sorry I can't reschedule this appointment. My name is Allen, and I'm your occupational therapist. I understand you met Paul. He has informed me that your aim needs improving," Allen said and typed.

House's eyes remained closed and there was no response. Allen touched House's toes gently to awaken him.

"I didn't hear all of what you said and I don't want to. I'm tired. Bye," was the response from the bed. House's eyes remained closed.

Allen touched House's toes again.

"If you don't want to get kicked, please respect my wishes and let me alone!" was the warning growl from the bed.

House cracked his eyes open and Allen took advantage of the moment by saying "Dr. House, I'm sorry I have to wake you up. I don't like having to wake anyone. I have no choice. I'm Allen, your occupational therapist. I need to do my initial evaluation and first session. I won't take long; promise." he said and typed.

"Fine, but if you're still here 15 minutes from now, I'm sending you out the same way I sent the other guy out. Sorry but I'm just not in the mood for more than 15 minutes of your time. I'm tired, hurting, I've reached my limit of endurance for the day, and the day isn't even half over. Get started quickly because I won't be able to last much longer."

Allen took a deep breath and said to himself, _Keep breathing deeply. He's just tired and hurting. It isn't personal._ "Ok, deal. As a matter of fact I can keep it even shorter; my evaluation will consist of mostly yes or no questions."

"Are you right handed?" House was so tired he could barely talk anymore, so he just nodded _Yes._

"You use your cane with your right hand?"

_Yes_.

"Do you play any musical instruments?" Allen had heard that he did, and he knew that the act of playing a musical instrument would be good exercise for the hands and fingers down the road. Allen just needed to confirm what he had heard.

_Yes_.

"Did you have any trouble with the adapted utensils Paul brought in?"

_No._

"Ok. No more questions. I have a brief physical exam to conduct, won't take more than a moment or two; promise." Allen said and typed.

"As you know, some of the things we in occupational therapy focus on are activities of daily living like eating, bathing, dressing, and so forth. I don't think you're going to need much help from us right now because you can eat on your own and the bathing and dressing won't be an issue after the burns are healed a little more. Basically for now, I just need to be sure you have the adaptive tools you need while your range of motion is limited. You have the eating and drinking tools. We have clothing hooks you can use now to get your socks on and I'll put padding on your hairbrush handle, your comb, and your toothbrush so you can handle those things independently too. I also need to fit you for wrist splints." House vigorously shook his head _NO_ to that.

"Dr. House, as long as your hands are relatively immobilized with the dressings, your wrists need to be kept in a certain position or you could develop wrist drop. The splints only need to be kept on when you're sleeping. When you're awake, the splints need to be off so you can move."

House agreed to that, but only because agreeing to it was the only way to get Allen out of there faster.

"Ok, I just need to measure your hands and wrists for the splints and then I'm outta here." Allen produced a tape measure, measured House's hands and forearms, and said "I'm done. I'll be back later today with the splints. I was planning on starting your OT sessions today but I can wait until tomorrow if you'd prefer." Allen said and typed.

House said "Tomorrow."

Day 8, 2 pm, 30 minutes after Allen left

Cameron tiptoed into House's room. _He looks so tired,_ she thought. The TV was on, sound muted, and the closed captioning display was on. Most bothersome was the fact that he was back on the oxygen face mask. Cameron turned the TV off and turned the lights off in his cubicle to try to help him stay asleep. Lynne came in quietly because House had another respiratory therapy session scheduled soon. Up until this morning he had been off the oxygen, but it was worrisome that all of today's activity had worn him out so much that he needed to go back on the oxygen again.

Lynne pulled Cameron out of the room so they could talk without waking House up.

"We're concerned about his respiratory status. Obviously the pneumonia hasn't completely cleared up. It's most likely taking longer to clear up because he's lying in bed. If I thought he would tolerate sitting up in a chair, we'd have done that by now, but he's been so tired that it might make his breathing a little worse. When Robin comes in to do his breathing treatment, she'll have to wake him up for that, and then I want to talk to him about getting up in a chair even just for a few minutes."

Cameron knew that would be a very good thing for House, but wasn't sure he'd see it that way.

Just then, Robin approached House's cubicle with the supplies needed for his breathing treatment. "He's asleep, but he needs the breathing treatment so we are going to have to wake him up," Lynne said gently.

Quietly all three women walked back into House's cubicle.

"House," said Cameron. She didn't type it. House's eyes fluttered open. It took him a few moments to wake up.

"Sorry to have to wake you up. You need a breathing treatment," Robin said even as it became obvious to everyone in the room that he really did need one. The coughing returned and House's eyes bugged out, unable to catch his breath. As his oxygen saturation slowly dropped, even with the face mask on, Robin quickly and efficiently attached the little container with the medication for him to inhale. Little clouds of humidified air puffed out of his face mask as he gasped in the medicated aerosol. Slowly, he began to relax. Robin increased the amount of oxygen he received during his breathing treatment until his oxygen saturation returned to baseline and the coughing stopped.

When the breathing treatment was over, House rasped "What the hell happened? I was doing fine before all the coughing…"

Lynne said and typed "The pneumonia is almost, but not completely cleared up. I think there are areas in your lungs that aren't getting fully inflated because you're lying in bed. We need to get you up, even for just a few minutes at a time, so your lungs can inflate properly and any fluid in your lungs can drain properly."

House shook his head and hesitated. Cameron thought, _here we go. This is going to go over like a lead balloon._ Instead, House shocked all of them.

"You're right. But I can't stand. Can you get a hoyer lift?"

Lynne said "Yes." She thought, and then said and typed "We can use a hoyer lift or we can scoot you over to what they call a stretcher-chair. It lays flat like a stretcher. We can scoot you over from the bed to the stretcher and then raise your head and lower your feet until you're sitting. We can do whatever you'd prefer. It might be easier to use the Hoyer lift."

House said "Hoyer lift. And I don't want a crowd. Lynne, just you and one other nurse. I know you are just dying to see my naked butt hanging out the back of this gown, Cameron, but not today," he smirked. "And let me sleep awhile first. I think they're coming back to punish me with more PT today so I'll get up then. Meantime, let me sleep please."

Cameron said "Mind if I stay until PT comes?"

House said "If you can't suppress your constant need to be needed, then stay. It's up to you." He actually was glad she wanted to stay with him, because he knew the pool of people who actually wanted to be around him that had no other agenda was pretty small. "In fact, get my mom too," he said.

"Gladly!" Cameron replied.

As House took advantage of the little bit of free time he had to try and get some more sleep, Cameron and Blythe sat quietly by his bed in his darkened room. Recent breathing scare aside, both knew that House was finally on the mend. Cameron knew that the road to recovery would be rough and full of potholes, but it was do-able with the right physical and psychosocial support.

Meanwhile, out in House hood, House's peeps had gathered for another meeting in front of the white board. As problems cleared up, the white board got cleaner and cleaner.

"House had another breathing scare. His recovery from the pneumonia is probably being hindered by the fact that he's still lying in bed. I spoke with Dr. Miller earlier today and they're planning on getting him out of bed for short periods of time. This is great, but he's so worn out that we need to think about a better way to handle the visiting. As you know, Anne is his primary care nurse, and we need to talk with her tonight when she gets in and see how she thinks we should handle the visiting," Wilson said.

"I don't think we need to be in the room all the time anymore." Cuddy announced. "I think it's stressing him out too much."

"Well *I* think you of all people shouldn't be making decisions for him. You underestimate him. Maybe I do too. Visiting might be stressing him out, but don't you think he should have something to say about it too? You probably think he's so antisocial that he doesn't really want us there. Well, Cameron and his mom are in there now and you don't see them running for cover. You think you're trying to help him by making decisions for him but you just treat him like a child. You think he acts like a child, but why are you treating him like one? Underneath that gruff cover he needs support and love just like the rest of us do; probably even more so. You think you know what's best for him so you make decisions for him without asking him," Wilson shot in anger back at Cuddy.

"Yeah, look who's talking, Mr. I-can't-live-without-House-needing-me"! I think you're hardly the one to give US relationship advice of ANY kind. You know what co-dependency is? You're just as co-dependent on him as any of the rest of us are, maybe even more so." Cuddy fired back.

"Geez, I never thought I'd miss Foreman…" said Chase. "Look, everybody. We're all tired. House is getting better. His mom is obviously staying. I agree with Wilson. We all need to talk to Anne tonight when she gets in and we need to do EVERYTHING she says. I might just slug one of you all otherwise."

Evening, Day 8

Dinner arrived early. Brenda and another nurse had lifted House up into a bedside reclining chair, a task made easier with a mechanical lifting device and a sling under House's back and butt. Riding a morphine high, House could have cared less and fell asleep again the minute his butt hit the chair. When dinner arrived, House was sleeping in the chair and he was pleasantly awakened by the aroma of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans and coffee. The evening dressing change was delayed until 9 pm to give his stomach a chance to empty. Brenda had another nice surprise for him.

She turned the tube feeding off and pulled the feeding tube.

No more feeding tube!

"Dr. House," she said and typed, "the feeding tube goes back in if you don't eat enough. So eat up. I have protein shakes for you too and we'll start those tomorrow morning. You have to drink at least three of those a day on top of eating at least half of your meals, or the tube goes back in."

He was able to handle the fried chicken with his adapted utensils pretty well once Brenda cut it up. Deeply engrossed in greasy fried chicken, and enjoying every mouthful of it, House was oblivious to anything else she said.

Right after dinner, sure as shooting, here came Gary for the physical therapy evaluation of House's legs.

House's eyes were closed, enjoying the last few bits of fried chicken, and when he heard Gary come in, his good mood went straight to hell.

"Your favorite son is back. I think I must be the last person you want to see tonight, right?" Gary asked.

House briefly considered pretending like he didn't hear him, but ended up just shrugging his shoulders.

"Well, I'll be nice tonight. How about I just measure your existing range of motion tonight, and we'll start on the physical therapy exercises for your legs tomorrow?" Gary asked and typed.

House shrugged his shoulders again, appreciative that Gary considered his needs, but feeling a post-dinner nap coming on he wanted nothing more than to go to sleep right now.

"Ok. Don't move your legs. Keep them slack, and let me do all the moving. I'm going to start with your toes and ankles, and then move up to the knees and we'll save your right hip for last. It might be a little difficult to evaluate your hips while you're in the chair but I'm really glad you're in the chair. We will do as much as we can while you're in the chair and you can stay in the chair if you want, or I can move you back into bed if you want. It's up to you," Gary said and typed.

"Let me stay right where I am," House affirmed.

"Ok, I'm just going to rotate your joints through their normal movements, and all I want you to do is tell me or raise your hand or something when you feel any pain." Gary said and typed.

Gary proceeded all the way up House's left leg and left hip without meeting much resistance and House only raised his hand when his left knee creaked a little. "Forgot to tell you I had an old lacrosse injury there," House said.

Gary had only to start gently with evaluating House's right foot when he felt every muscle in House's body tense up. "Dr. House, are you hurting more now?" Gary said with concern. "Not yet. My thigh doesn't need any reason to cramp up like a vice, though." House said through gritted teeth. "Please be careful."

"Ok, I will." Gary gently moved House's right toes and ankle through their normal range of motion. He noted no resistance.

Gary said "How about I put my hand under your right thigh and you let me support it, so we can check out your knee and hip?"

House just shrugged his shoulders.

Gary gently placed his left hand under House's right thigh to support it an inch or so off the bed, and placed his right hand under House's right calf. Then he gently began to bend House's right knee. He didn't flex it 5 degrees before House screamed and the thigh began to cramp like rigor mortis had set in. "Wow, that's bad," Gary commiserated. "I told you! Oh God, make it stop! Geez! Don't touch me!" House screamed between coughs as his oxygen saturation began to drop again. "Help me, I can't breathe!"

Brenda came running in and as Gary explained to her what happened, she was already drawing up the Toradol and some valium to give through his IV, to stop the cramping. As House felt the chemical relaxation flooding his body, the coughing and the cramping stopped and House weakly rasped "Houston, we have another problem. I need to get back to bed but my muscles have turned to jello…. I'm sorry but I can't stay up in this chair any longer and I can't help you get me back to bed…"

Gary said and typed "You have the hoyer pad underneath you so don't worry about it. We'll have you back in bed in a jiffy with the hoyer lift. You don't need to do a thing. And I'm sorry about the cramping. Is it always that bad?"

As they were moving him back to bed, House whispered "It is after I haven't moved in awhile, like when I wake up in the morning. It isn't your fault so don't say you're sorry. The damn thing has a mind of its own."

"Alright, well, you're back in bed now so I'm going to let you go back to sleep. Have you tried Flexeril or any other kind of muscle relaxant before?" Gary said and typed. House said "Yes, and they make all my muscles too relaxed."

"Ok, I'm going to suggest Vitamin E supplements to Dr. Miller if that's Ok with you. Sometimes Vitamin E helps prevent cramping in patients on hemodialysis, and it might do the same for you," Gary said as he left.

The dressing change later that evening also held a surprise for House. This would be the first time he would get a good look at the burns. Once the dressings were removed, they would not need to re-dress his arms or his left leg. Only his hands needed to remain covered with dressings.

Before they lowered him into the whirlpool, Brenda gave him some extra morphine and an injection of prochlorperazine to prevent nausea. As doped up as he was, it was hard to keep his eyes open until he hit the water. As he hit the warm whirlpool, his eyes shot open because the donor skin was falling off his hands. "Stop, stop!" he screamed.

"What's wrong, Dr. House?" the evening ICU physician asked and typed.

"I don't think my skin is supposed to be sloughing off, idiot!" House yelled.

"Dr. House, that was cadaver skin. It's going to fall off. If your own skin is growing back sufficiently, we don't necessarily need to do anything else. If it isn't, then it's time to do an autologous skin transplant. Honestly, from the look of things, we may need to do an autologous skin transplant but I'll talk with Dr. Miller about that in the morning. Don't worry about the cadaver skin falling off. That's normal. As more of it sloughs off, you may hurt more, so don't hesitate to say anything. We'll give you whatever you need for pain relief," he said and typed.

"Well do it now!" House yelled again. As many "gross" things as he had seen in his lifetime as a physician, nothing was worse than seeing skin from his own body slough off. It did hurt a little more but it wasn't so much the pain as the sight of skin sloughing off of him (even though it wasn't his skin) that freaked him out so much.

11:30 PM, Day 8

Anne was back. She knew she'd need to have a family conference with Blythe and the rest of House's people because the stress level out in House hood had gone up considerably and it was starting to have an effect on House. Blythe was the only one who managed to come into his room calm, pleasant and seemingly without any other agenda. Everyone else was moody, short-tempered and quick to judge every time House asked for anything. Anne noticed that House would start to clam up and shut down every time any one else besides Blythe came into the room. It was so bad that he stopped talking altogether after Cuddy walked in. Anne noticed it, Brenda had noticed it earlier, even Lynne noticed it on day shift. Everyone seemed to be aware of the problem except those who were causing it.

So it was time for a family conference.

House was asleep and Blythe was with him. Brenda had told Wilson earlier that Anne would have a conference with all of them so he should arrange to have everyone in House hood after 11 pm if at all possible.

Chase, Cameron, Taub, Thirteen, Kutner, Cuddy and Wilson were waiting in House hood when Anne came out with Blythe to met them.

"Glad you were all able to make it. We do need to have a family conference. It's apparent that there are times when the stress level in Dr. House's room goes up to an intolerable level. I don't think any one particular person in this room is causing the stress. I think it's overstimulation. There's too much going on and he doesn't have enough down time. The way to address the problem is to eliminate the stressors that can be eliminated. One of those is the number of visitors. He does need someone there. He doesn't need the constant coming and going of *different* people, though. He relaxes and seems to do fine with his mother and Mrs. House, you're his next of kin. I'd like you to decide who else can visit, and I'd respectfully ask everyone else to bow out for now. I understand you have good intentions, but having so many people get involved is causing more stress than it's worth."

Wilson looked at Cuddy, Cuddy looked at Chase, Kutner looked at Taub, and Cameron looked at Thirteen. Then everyone looked at Blythe. Kutner said "Maybe I can help catch up on referrals."

Thirteen said "I could help work off some of his clinic hours."

Taub didn't say anything and actually, was looking for an excuse to get out of this environment anyway. He wasn't much help to House and his presence just seemed to irritate House.

Cameron and Chase really did want to help. Cameron didn't want to relinquish any control of anything to Blythe, but Chase did it for her. "Come on Cameron, you need to get back to the ER and I can help out with some of the surgery cases. He knows we care and he doesn't need all of us hovering over him all the time now that he's getting better. We need to get back to our lives."

Wilson and Cuddy resumed looking at each other as if to say _Who's it gonna be?_

Blythe resolved that issue.

"I'm not quite sure how to say this without upsetting either of you. I know you are nice people but I understand what Anne is saying. I appreciate what you've done here, I really do. But Dr. Cuddy, I think you should go back to your job. If he wants to see you, you can visit. I'm not kicking you out. I'm just asking you to give us a break for awhile. Dr. Wilson, I know he thinks of you as a friend. I don't know you well enough yet, I guess. I know I've let my son down over the years and now I have a chance to fix things, so let me do that. I'd appreciate your being with him whenever I can't, but I will be spending nights and most days with him. When I'm there, I don't need anyone else there too. I do want him to have some down time, though. I'll talk to him when he wakes up and see what he thinks. Those are my wishes though. Please understand my son needs people with him who don't have any other agenda. You all have other lives. Right now, I'm the one he needs."

"Ok," Anne said. "For now, then, visitors will be limited to Mrs. House, and when she can't be there or needs a break, Dr. Wilson. There will also be times when he doesn't want or need visitors. Mrs. House, he needs to relax and know that you are taking care of yourself too. He can't worry about you too but he probably will. You don't have to stay 24 hours a day. He'll be alright with a little downtime, with no visitors."

Anne went back into the ICU. House was awake, watching the news on mute with the closed captioning on.

"Can you hear the TV?" Anne asked House.

"Yes, but the ringing gets bad when I turn the volume up so it's easier to just read the captions. It's getting better though."

"Ok. I talked to your mom and all your people out there."

_Oh God, wonder what you all talked about… geez…_ thought House.

"No secrets here. I had a speech prepared, but I didn't have to use it. Your fellows are going back to work and back to their own lives. Dr. Chase took care of Dr. Cameron. She's going back to the ER. Your mom took care of Dr. Cuddy and Dr. Wilson."

House looked at her with wonder. "She didn't hurt them…?"

"No. I was amazed. Your mom must be some lady. She told Dr. Cuddy to go back to her job, that she wasn't needed here, that she could visit but only if you wanted her to. Dr. Wilson will be relieving your mom here when she needs a break. Your mom wants to help. Nobody seemed hurt. They know you need them even if you won't admit it, and they need you, but you also need down time and you need time with your mom to help get through this. They understand and from now on until you say otherwise, Dr. Wilson and your mom will be with you. I hope it was Ok that we had that conversation without you. Sometimes there are things that need to be said that aren't easy." Anne said and typed.

"Actually, yeah, I'm kind of relieved that you did that. How's my mom?"

"She needs her rest. She went back to the hotel room. You know your dad went back to Lexington." Anne said and typed.

"Dad wouldn't be any help here anyway. I hope mom can sleep ok." House replied.

"Want to hear something funny?" Anne said. House said "Yeah, I could use a laugh."

"My leg fell off the first time I went out in public in a skirt. I went to some function; I think it was a dinner or something. They had a dress code. Women had to wear dresses or suits. So I had this beautiful long skirt on and I was still getting used to the leg. I didn't have it on right and it fell off under the table when I sat down. I had no idea what to say. What do you say in that situation? 'Pardon my while I put my leg back on?'" I was mortified at the time but when I look back on it now, all I can do is bust a gut laughing." Anne said and wrote. House burst out laughing too.

"Wilson sawed halfway through my cane one time. We were playing practical jokes on each other when he stayed at my apartment after his last wife left him. I played a joke on him one night that resulted in him peeing the couch he was sleeping on. The next day, he and I were working on a really difficult case and we were walking down one of the halls here together and the cane snapped. I crashed into the wall before I hit the floor; all arms and legs flying everywhere. Everyone snickered and I was so embarrassed at the time, but after I got home I realized I wasn't injured and it really was hilarious."

Anne said "Wanna hear something else?" House said "Yeah".

"One time I went bowling with some friends. The idiot manager of the lanes came down and said something about how much he admired that I could bowl with a fake leg. I said "I think it's pretty amazing that you can manage with a fake brain." I just blurted it out. I was mad, and embarrassed, and my friends thought it was hilarious. It actually was hilarious; I just didn't think so until later that night. To make matters worse, the manager apologized. It would have been better if he'd just walked away. I had a perfect game going until that happened." Anne said and typed.

House said "I know what you mean. When I bought my motorcycle, some other sales guy who wasn't even involved with the deal had been watching me. He came over and asked what I would do with my cane. I said 'I don't know. Bend over and let's find out.' Fortunately I had already paid for the bike."

Anne said "Do you go swimming? How do people treat you at the pool when they see your scar? It's not like you can hide it."

House said "I wear long shorts that go down to my knees. I can't swim all that well anyway, anymore, since I can't kick. When I swim, I mostly just use upper body strength."

Anne said and typed "I used to wish I could hide my disability too. Before this," she pointed to the razor scars on her wrist, "I hid in the house all the time. It's not like people couldn't figure out immediately that I had a fake leg. I could hide the leg under long pants, but I couldn't hide the limp. I tried and tried to walk without a limp but I could never manage it. I even tried different prostheses, but I could never completely shed the limp. But after the suicide attempt and a healthy dose of psychotherapy, my therapist prescribed a trip, of all places, to a public swimming pool I figured, I can't go around wearing long sleeves and long pants all the time. I didn't want to go in the water with long sleeves and long pants on. It was hard, but I wore a regular bathing suit, I took the leg off and went in the water and you know, nobody really seemed to care."

Anne said "The first time I really tried to swim, instead of just playing in the water, I found it difficult because I kept getting thrown off balance. I was trying to kick with one leg and kept flipping over all the time. I learned how to do a dolphin kick with one leg from one of the guys in my support group. After you're healed, I could show you if you want. It works great."

House hesitated awhile. Anne knew there was something else he wanted to talk about, but he was finding it difficult to bring the topic up. Anne took a chance and broached the subject for him.

"I used to be really popular with the guys until my leg. After that, well, let's just say that a few pay per view channels on TV were about the only kind of action I got. My psychotherapist helped me deal with that. The first time I met a guy who really wanted to go all the way, I showed him how to take my leg off. I wasn't sure how he was going to react. He said 'That's nothing. Wanna see how to use my penis pump?' Turns out he had a penile prosthesis… the thing had a little pump in his scrotum…"

House just smiled, sadly.

"The first time a hooker saw my leg, that was the end of the night. I never even got a refund," House muttered.

"After that, I started wearing pajama bottoms, and thank God my mom never sees my cable bill either."

"Do you have a girlfriend?" Anne asked him gently.

"I used to. I drove her away, and now I'm all alone. Nobody wants to get that close to me. The hookers are just a diversion."

"I know." Anne said. House believed her. "After my leg, my mom paid guys to date me. They weren't prostitutes or anything. They were normal, nice guys, sons of her friends. I found out later that the only reason they even called me in the first place was because Mom paid them to. She paid them in full after they took me out to dinner or to a movie or something. I noticed that I could never get any of them to do more than just go on social outings with me. I picked up the phone by accident one time when she was discussing such an arrangement with one of them. I hated her so much after that that I moved out of the house and quit speaking to her."

Anne said "Dr. House, I notice I don't have to type very much. You seem to hear me pretty well."

House said "Yeah, it's getting better. I hear better at night when there's less background noise out there. I guess it's better, anyway. I don't know."

House looked down at the covers on his bed a long time before he said anything else. Anne could sense that he still had something else to say, and she gave him all the time he needed.

Finally he looked up at her, slowly, with relief that finally, after all these years, he'd finally met someone else like him and he wasn't alone.

"Can I ask you something?" House said quietly.

"Sure," Anne replied softly.

"When you were in the hospital, for your leg amputation, who helped you through it?"

"My dad. Mom couldn't deal with it any better than I could. I think Mom thought I was maimed for life or something and she couldn't get over that. That's why she thought she had to pay guys to date me later on. My dad just treated me normally, like nothing changed. That's exactly what I needed. I needed to be treated like nothing changed. Who was there for you when you had your surgery?"

"My girlfriend."

"Oh God. Where were your parents?" Anne asked incredulously.

"I didn't tell them until after the second surgery. My parents were already getting up there in age. Dad was about as much help as he is now, and Mom didn't know what to do to help. I think she thought I was in good hands with my girlfriend. I wish Mom had come, but she didn't."

"So you went through the hospitalization and the aftermath with no family to help you?" Anne was even more incredulous. "Geez. Did they suggest any disability support groups while you were in the hospital?"

"Yeah, but I only went once. I thought it was a waste of time." House practically whispered.

Anne said and typed, "I told everybody around me that I thought it was a waste of time too. But the truth was, I really didn't want to hang out with a bunch of pathetic gimps. I thought if I hung around with gimps all the time, it would just remind me what a pathetic loser I was. I kept going back because my dad made me. I didn't get my head straightened out until after I cut my wrist and wound up with Dr. Golan in the psych ward here."

House's eyes shot open and he stared at her.

"Yep, I still see him once a month. He started the same disability support group my dad made me go to, and he still comes to those meetings," Anne said with a smile.

"So that's why…." House's voice trailed off.

"I just suggested his name to Dr. Miller, that's all. Dr. Miller doesn't know I'm seeing Golan too. Miller just knows that Golan has a lot of experience with people with disabilities. That's why Miller referred you to Golan."

House had been trying to stifle a yawn for some time now but he was too caught up in what Anne was saying to admit that he was tired. He couldn't hold the yawn back any more, and Anne said and typed "You ready to go to sleep? You want me to call your mom, or are you ok without her for now?"

"Yeah, and thanks but let my mom sleep where she is right now. I'm ok if you just leave the little night light on," House replied.


	38. Powder coated crutches

Chapter 38

Morning, Day 9

Dr. Miller walked into House's cubicle after finding an eerily empty ICU waiting room. Blythe was eating breakfast with her son.

Back in the waiting room, All evidence of House hood was gone. House's white board, toys and furniture had been moved back to his office, and all of the artwork that belonged in the waiting room had been put back in its rightful place. The food was gone and so were all of the extra linens. The only reminders of House hood that were left behind were the new futons and sofas. The volunteer was dutifully stationed back at his desk in the waiting room, although the other visitors still looked like they were reluctant to come back in to the room they had been banished from for the previous eight days.

House was looking decidedly better. The hospital food was actually pretty good, he had to admit. All the physical and occupational therapy meant that he had a pretty decent appetite, so the feeding tube stayed out.

"Let's have a look at those hands. How's your pain today?" Dr. Miller asked.

Just as House was about to say something, Blythe interjected "He's still on the morphine, but he's been pretty comfortable."

"Actually, I wanted to hear from him," Dr. Miller smiled.

House looked back and forth between Dr. Miller and his mother. He was still having trouble differentiating between two different voices, so he heard what Dr. Miller said but only part of what his mother said. He was also angry that his mother would take it upon herself to answer for him.

"Mom, I can answer for myself. I never thought I'd say this, but can you wean me off the morphine and put me on something else, maybe something oral? The morphine is messing with me. My muscles feel like jello and all I want to do is sleep all the time. I think it's from the morphine. With all this physical and occupational therapy, I should be able to move better than I can."

"Sure. We can put you back on the Vicodin. How much were you taking before?" Dr. Miller asked, fully aware that he was probably not going to get an honest answer.

Blythe looked at her son, wondering what his answer would be.

"I guess you can't tell from the reams of my old medical history files out there."

"House, I was hoping for an honest answer. Those old records are pretty old. I need to know what you were taking recently, not what you were prescribed to take five years ago. Do you know how much morphine you're on now?"

"Of course. I'm on 5 mg an hour" was the answer.

"And how much Vicodin were you taking before this?"

House looked at his mother, as if afraid to say anything.

"Honey, just answer them. I have no idea how much you were taking or even how much you were prescribed. I'm not qualified to judge you so please just answer him."

"I was doing about 80 mg a day."

Surprisingly, Dr. Miller responded without hesitation; "Ok, we'll start weaning you off the morphine and back onto Vicodin. I know you were originally prescribed a max of 40 mg a day. I assume that your prescription was for 10/750 (10 mg Vicodin and 750 mg acetaminophen per tablet)."

"Yes" was the answer.

"Originally, then you were taking four tablets a day. I assume the pain wasn't manageable on four tablets a day, right?"

"Yes"

"So you were taking about eight tablets a day most recently, right? You're probably taking two tabs at a time. I'm not judging. I'm trying to plan a proper weaning protocol so you don't wind up getting over- or underdosed while you're on both morphine and Vicodin. I also don't want you suffering needlessly."

House lost him after the "weaning protocol" sentence.

"House, did you hear me?" Miller said and typed.

"Not all of it."

Dr. Miller repeated and typed everything.

"Ok, so can we start weaning now?" House replied after he'd read what Miller typed.

"Yes, and we need to talk about side effects of the Vicodin too. If Vicodin is what you need, you can have it. But after taking Vicodin for so long, there are bound to be side effects. Have you been having any?"

House looked at his mother and said nothing.

"Mrs. House, would you mind stepping out? Maybe you can grab some coffee in the cafeteria or something. It's on me." Dr. Miller handed her a gift card for the cafeteria. "We can talk when you get back. Please, it's Ok." Dr. Miller said.

Reluctantly, Blythe went to the cafeteria.

As soon as she exited the room, House let out a sigh of relief.

"I feel like a slave to those damn things." House muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

"I either have to be in pain 24/7 or I have to take pain pills that make me feel like a depressed, constipated eunuch. What a choice."

"From that answer, I'm guessing you know all the side effects. Down the road, there might be a better alternative for you than anything containing Vicodin since obviously you're experiencing Vicodin-related depression. First off, I'm switching you to Vicoprofen because of your liver. Vicoprofen has ibuprofen instead of acetaminophen so it should be easier on your liver. You don't have to feel like a slave to pain meds. There are pain meds that don't cause sexual side effects or depression. It's a matter of finding the right combination; but that can be taken care of down the road."

House looked at Dr. Miller expecting more of a lecture than he got.

"I'm not here to lecture you. I don't have chronic pain, so I don't know what it's like. I just know we have to treat the 'here and now'; we have to treat the chronic pain you already have and the pain from your burns, and we have to get you off the morphine. So we'll start the weaning protocol as soon as Lynne gets the Vicoprofen from the pharmacy. We'll start you on the Vicoprofen and then cut your morphine to 4 mg an hour. We'll wean the morphine down, and the Vicoprofen up, over a period of a few days. You can have extra Vicoprofen before or after dressing changes and therapy if you need it." Dr. Miller said and typed.

"Ok" House responded.

"We also need to talk about your hands. The cadaver skin has all fallen off, as we expected it would. But your skin hasn't grown back in like we were hoping. You need autologous skin transplants on both hands. We'll need to take donor skin from another part of your body to cover the unhealed parts of your hands." Miller said and typed.

"Shit." was the one word reply.

"Yeah, I know. We have no choice. We're kind of limited as to where we can get the donor skin from since it has to be from an area that hasn't been burned. Fortunately we don't need much. We'll need to use a tissue expander to help grow some more normal skin. I was thinking we'd put the tissue expander in your abdomen, and take the donor skin from there." Miller said and typed.

_Great. Another scar to have to hide _thought House.

"If you have no choice, you have no choice." House replied.

"The good news is, we can take the dressings off of everything else except your hands. We'll put the tissue expander in as soon as I can schedule an OR – probably tomorrow. I'll talk to your mom if you want."

No answer from House.

Miller took the rest of House's dressings off and examined the extremities.

"Ok, I'm done for now. Do you have any questions?" Miller said and typed.

"Yeah. Am I being committed to the psych ward after I leave here?" House asked angrily. "Golan won't answer that. I don't trust him. In fact, I don't want him anymore. I don't want to be locked up somewhere."

"House, you tried to kill yourself. You need help for that that I can't give you. If you won't agree to get help from Dr. Golan, then we need to find someone else. I know the Vicodin probably had a lot to do with it. Vicodin can cause depression or aggravate pre-existing depression. That's why I said that I thought we needed to find an alternative for you down the road." Miller said and typed.

"If I agreed to an out patient support group, would you agree not to lock me up somewhere?"

"I'll agree to help you find another psychiatrist, I'll agree to work with you and a pain management specialist, and I'll agree to help you find a support group. How's that? If you need inpatient psychiatric care, then the decision of whether to 'lock you up' or not wouldn't rest with me anyway. It would be up to a psychiatrist. I think it shouldn't be necessary to keep you in a psych ward against your will if you agree to the three things I said."

"Deal!" House replied.

Mrs. House returned to her son's room and Dr. Miller updated her on everything they'd discussed, minus the Vicodin side effects that House obviously wanted kept private.

House's physical therapist, Allen, arrived for the morning physical therapy session with some surprises.

"Dr. House, it's time to get you back up on your feet, now that the rest of your dressings are off. I noticed from my initial exam that you have signs and symptoms of carpal tunnel syndrome in your right wrist. I bet you never told anyone that."

House stared at him and said "What choice do I have? If I had surgery on it to correct it, I'd be in a wheel chair while the thing heals. I don't want to use a wheel chair because the remaining leg muscles in both of my legs would atrophy from lack of use. Then I'd have an even harder time walking again. I'm already facing a wheel chair if I develop arthritis. I'd like to delay that as long as I can."

"And I appreciate that. There are alternatives to a cane or a wheel chair. There are 'Hands Free crutches' and there are platform crutches. A 'hands free' crutch attaches with Velcro straps to the affected leg, but it wouldn't work for you because the straps go around the thigh. The other choice is a pair of platform crutches like what I brought today. They don't go under your armpits and don't require any use of your hands. You bend your arms and rest them, like this, on the platforms. Your forearms bear the weight, instead of your armpits or your hands." Allen demonstrated their use, and typed all of this to make sure House understood.

"Ok, got it. I've never seen anything like that. I had to use underarm crutches after the leg and I hated them. Do they make these in different colors? Since I have to look like a cripple, I guess I oughta look like a cool cripple." House smiled.

"Yeah, we can have them powder coated any way you like." Allen quipped. House laughed. "No, I'm not joking. I'm serious. They're metal so we can have them powder coated if you want. It's not like you're going to be returning them, so you can have them personalized any way you want." Allen said.

"So let's start now. Sit up with your feet over the side of the bed. You tell me how much help you need." Allen said.

Gingerly, House slid his left leg over the side of the bed and then used both arms under his right thigh to move his right leg over the side of the bed as well. Not being able to use his hands, it took him twice as long to accomplish this task, but Allen stood by and watched while House did it independently. "Put the oxygen back on" House panted, although all of his numbers looked normal. Allen put the oxygen face mask back on, although it was more for psychological support than physical support. House was breathing fine. He looked terrified, though.

Blythe said "Should I stay here for this?" Allen replied "You'll need to know how the crutches work, so yes."

"Ok, rest your forearms here." Allen showed him how to do that. "There are hand grips, but I don't want you using them at all. We'll use the Velcro straps around the platforms so the crutches stay in place. We'll do this on the count of three. When I say three, lean forward with your weight on your left leg and your platform crutches to stand up. I know you can do this by yourself so I'm not going to help unless you say you want help. I know you're scared, but you can do this. Ready?" Allen said and typed.

"I guess" House said.

"One, two, three" Allen said and on the count of three, House lurched forward and stood up precariously, shaking on his left leg and the two platform crutches. "Catch me!" House cried, but just as Allen moved to catch him, House looked up with a lopsided grin on his face. "Gotcha!" House laughed nervously. "Seriously, I can do this. Move the recliner a little closer." And with that, House crutched a few steps to the recliner and sat down with a look of pride as if he'd just climbed Mount Kilimanjaro.

"Great! Now when I come back after lunch, you're gonna walk back to bed!" Allen laughed. "Buzzkill," House replied and Blythe laughed as well.

Lunch arrived, Allen left and the two occupants of the room were left in peace and quiet to eat their meals.

5 pm, Day 9

Kutner arrived in House's cubicle with a surprise, carrying a manila envelope. House had had a second session with Allen already, and was able to crutch the few steps back to bed without assistance from Allen. Blythe had returned to her knitting and House was asleep. When Kutner arrived, the sound of his door opening was enough to wake House up, who glared angrily at poor Kutner. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up, but I have a cool surprise for you."

Kutner gave him the envelope and left.

Two items were inside the envelope. One was a picture of a new pair of bright black powder coated platform crutches with the Nike emblem and bright orange flames stenciled on both crutches. The forearm platforms were padded and the padding was covered with bright black leather, the kind found in motorcycle jackets. The Velcro straps on the platforms were even colored black. Even the rubber tips were cool. The whole package just screamed "House."

House always thought the canes he bought from his usual hangouts were cool, but they were the coolest things House had ever seen.

The other item in the envelope was a note.  
"House, here's to looking like the coolest cripple in town. I got the idea from watching American Chopper. I think these are the coolest things I've ever seen. I found a motorcycle shop in town that agreed to do the custom paint job and padding. They even found rubber tips for the bottom, made out of leftover rubber from some old Nike Shox. This is courtesy of me and Taub. Don't say we never gave you anything. This is just a mock-up. The real crutches will be ready by the time you get discharged. See ya later."


	39. The End

Chapter 39

**A/N – and so, dear readers, we reach the end of the story. I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it! Be on the lookout for my new story which will be a humorous one about House and his guitars. I've had enough angst for a little while!**

1 am, Day 14

House was up in his recliner, unable to sleep, anxiously awaiting a discussion with Anne. Anne was unexpectedly tied up with another patient who had suddenly developed an acute problem, and House debated whether or not he should go back to bed and try to sleep. He was being discharged in a few days. He was able to get into and out of bed independently with the platform crutches, and could manage a few steps on his own. Walking more than a few steps on his own would require weeks of physical therapy but even pessimistic House knew that he'd be able to manage on his own, without his mother, after a few weeks of outpatient therapy.

As much as he loved his mother, he didn't relish having her there 24/7. That was one issue Anne was planning on addressing with him tonight, by himself. Anne had agreed that he didn't need his mother, but she had become so overbearing lately that she knew House was going to need help to get her to go home.

Another issue that needed addressing tonight was the plan for getting him to agree to regular participation in an outpatient support group. Miller had not found a psychiatrist that House could get along with. The chances of being transferred to the inpatient psych ward shot up when House fired his last psychiatrist. Miller had flat out told him "House, you've fired every psychiatrist I referred to you. I can't ignore this. You're leaving me no option. I told you that I wouldn't transfer you to inpatient psych care if you agreed to three things. You've already shot down one of those things. Your depression needs to be addressed by someone more qualified in that area than me. I may have no choice but to transfer you to inpatient psych. I may even pursue the option of involuntary commitment. You need to convince me that involuntary commitment isn't necessary."

Both of these issues were weighing heavily on House's mind and Anne knew it. She had a surprise of her own in mind, one that had to be scheduled around House's schedule. It didn't matter that it was now 2 in the morning. House was wide awake, Anne was finished helping the other patient, and called in her surprise. Her surprise was waiting in the waiting room in the form of Bob, her best friend from her support group. Bob was more than a best friend, though. Bob was one of the support group's dedicated outreach volunteers, who was accustomed to getting depressed PTSD patient referrals during their rehab after the initial injury. Bob was not accustomed to helping patients who had been suffering from untreated depression and PTSD for years, like House had, but Bob felt up to the task at hand.

Anne walked into House's cubicle after her other patient was stabilized and resting. "Ready for our talk?" she asked.

""Absolutely."

"Ok, so I know you fired all the psychiatrists. I'm cutting right to the chase here. There's someone here you need to meet. He's not a psychiatrist. I'm going to let him introduce himself. Just promise me that you'll hear him out. I think you'll like him. I know it's 2 am but we're working around your schedule. Since you're awake, he agreed to come in now." House agreed and Anne called Bob in.

Two hours later, Bob left the cubicle and House was back in bed, sound asleep. "He agreed" was all Bob needed to say to Anne. Since their conversation was private, Anne wasn't privy to anything they said but, having been through the same thing herself when she was new to the support group, she had a pretty good idea what transpired. Anne smiled and said "Wonderful! Did you give him your number?"

"Yes, we'll use text messaging since his hearing isn't back to normal yet. He got himself back to bed. I'll be back tomorrow. As you know, our discussion is private. All I need you to do is let me know his discharge date. You're making discharge plans, right?" Bob said.

"Yes. He'll have in-home support as long as he needs it. It won't be his mother. I haven't had a chance to talk to him about it yet. I was planning on doing it tonight, and wasn't expecting your meeting to last two hours. That's fine, though. When I get the chance I'm going to recommend that his mother go home. I can help with that. Listen, I have to go. I'll talk to you later." Anne said.

Morning, Day 15

House's discharge plans had been finalized. Anne came back in to work after his mother arrived, and helped him to help his mother to leave. House already knew and had agreed to the plans made for him. He just needed help dealing with his mother, who was well intentioned but becoming more of a pain in the butt as the days went by.

"Part of our in-home services is regular visitation by a home health aide. Most people look at home health care as something of a last resort, something that only old people with one foot in the grave get. Our program is completely different. Dr. House will be going back home under the auspices of our "Patients at Work" program. Our "Patients at Work" program is for people who are employed and the at-home support is designed to get them back to work. Everyone in the program is employed or actively seeking employment. The home health care consists of any kind of care the patient needs, including physical therapy, occupational therapy, and a home health aide. Dr. House will not need occupational therapy. He will be receiving at-home physical therapy until he is able to get around outside of his home. He will be receiving the help of a home health aide too. He agreed to this. He'll have the same two aides, as most people have trouble with changing staff. The aides will do the laundry, shopping, and cleaning as needed and anything else Dr. House needs. We interviewed all of the aides and found two that appear to be well suited to Dr. House's unique personality. The intent is that he won't need the aides anymore once he's back at work. He'll keep seeing Allen and Allen's people for physical therapy."

"He also agreed to participate in our outpatient disability support group. I can't go into any details because all interactions between members of our support group are private, but Dr. House has already met his support person from the group and agreed to the plan. Other members of the support group are going to visit today. Because the meetings are private and confidential, they'll ask you to leave if you're in the room. Don't take it personally. They operate under the premise that all participants are adults who are participating on a voluntary basis, and their confidentiality is of utmost consideration. People would not participate in these groups if their confidentiality wasn't guaranteed."

"In fact, I'm going to take it one step further. I've been in his shoes. I know what it's like to have well-intentioned family members try to smother you with kindness. You think you're doing him a favor but you're not. He just doesn't know how to tell you. He wants to be kind. He doesn't want to hurt your feelings. Trust me, I've been there before too. When it happened to me, I didn't want to hurt my dad. But I had to learn how to deal with my issues myself. The difference is Dr. House has been floundering for years without help, and nobody apparently knew how to break through his defenses and get him the help he needed. I was fortunate in that I was able to get help sooner. He has the help he needs now. You have done a great job here. You can feel comfortable going home. He's in good hands now. If you want to meet his support group, they'll be here later today." Anne said to Blythe.

"Honey, is that what you want? You know I could stay with you. In fact I want to stay with you." Blythe said to House.

"Mom, when you go back home, what are you going home to?" House said.

"Your dad is gone. I'm going home to an empty house." she replied.

"Exactly. I've been doing that for years. Mom, I'm lonesome too and I need help that you can't provide. You can't be with me all the time. I'm a grown man. I love you but you can't live with me. These people can help. I know I haven't done anything to earn your trust but please trust me on this one. It's hard enough for me to admit I need help but obviously I do and these people can help."

Anne said "Mrs. House, as his primary care nurse, I'll still be following up with him after he goes home, as long as he's in the program. He's not kicking you out of his life. He's just trying to get better."

Blythe said "If that's what you need, honey, I'll support you. Even though your dad is gone, I'll probably see him, so what should I tell him?"

"Just tell him I'm getting better. That's all you need to say. If he wants to talk to me, he'll get in contact with me."

"Ok, honey. Can I meet these other people?" Bob and several other interesting people with various disabilities had begun to gather outside House's cubicle.

"Sure. Mom, this is Bob. Bob, this is my mother." A sandy haired man in a wheel chair with a support dog rolled forward, smiled, and extended his hand. He looked to be about Dr. House's age. "Hi Mrs. House, I'm Dr. Robert Simmons. I'm Dr. House's 'big brother', so to speak. I'm with the at-work disability support group and we have welcomed Dr. House as our newest member." Other members of the support group began to extend their hands and introduce themselves to Blythe.

Blythe said "How did you become injured?" Bob replied "One of our aims is to change the way people look at someone with a disability. The question you just asked is one symptom that we are trying to change. Most members decide to choose the option I did, after they've been with us long enough. They choose to be involved in our outreach program. I wanted to be involved in outreach because I've heard that question too many times. I'll answer it once, then explain why I don't like that question. I was injured in a car wreck years ago when I was hit head on by a drunk driver. I was sixteen years old, had just gotten my driver's license, and was driving to a school football game one Friday night when I got hit. I was doing nothing wrong, and my life changed. That's all there is to it. I don't like the question because it shows me automatically that you think of me as disabled and nothing more. You didn't ask what my doctorate was in. You didn't ask me why about my role with this group. The sad thing is, non-disabled people don't see that kind of question as offensive. I wonder how many times the first comment out of your son's patients' mouths has been about why he limps or why he has a cane. He's a world renowned diagnostician, and if he didn't use a cane, my guess is the first question any new patient would ask him would be how long he'd been a doctor, how many years experience he'd had in diagnostics, or something like that. I'm guessing that his reality is the same as ours, though, in that the first question most new patients probably ask him is why he uses a cane. Trust me, it's easier to come up with a smart ass one liner than it is to answer that question by telling the questioner that it's offensive. Look at it this way. Obviously you color your hair. We can all see that. But the first thing I said to you wasn't "Why do you color your hair?" You would be offended by that, wouldn't you?" Blythe had to admit yes, she would.

"Exactly. We're in this because we want to help overcome that kind of ignorance, even if it's unintentional. We're not asking people to ignore our disabilities, just like we're not asking you to ignore the fact that you have grey hair and dentures. We're just trying to educate people about disabilities. A better way to ask your question would have been to phrase it in the form of a comment. How much nicer it would have been to hear you say 'Love that beautiful dog,' or something like that. I even tell people I like to be told how cool my chair is. Look at it. It's bright orange. I want to be seen at night. That would have been nicer to hear than 'how did you become injured.' I'm not trying to hurt your feelings. I'm trying to get you off on the right foot, so to speak. This is what Greg needs. He needs to feel normal and accepted. He should have had this kind of support years ago, and I'm glad we're here for him now and he's agreed to our help."

"And I'm glad you're here for him too. Greg, if it's Ok I'd like to stay with you and savor our time together until you go home. Then I'll go back to MY home and fix things there." Blythe said and typed.

**A/N – I'm ending the story here. It's anyone's guess how House will respond to group therapy. I just wanted the whole point of the story to be that a self-help support group should have been offered to House in the first place, after the infarction. In my mind, getting the character involved in a self-help support group for disabilities would be a much more interesting way of having him deal with his disability than what the show's writers have done (alienating him from everyone else and treating his disability like it's all in his head). He could be his usual sarcastic self and still learn something from each of them. He'd have interesting things to contribute too, and the character interactions would be enough interesting fodder for at least another season of the show. Hey, I can dream, can't I?**


End file.
